


Broken

by Midnyghtchilde



Series: Brick's Commonwealth [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, fallout fandom
Genre: Cussing, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Spoilers, Swearing, Violence, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 74,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnyghtchilde/pseuds/Midnyghtchilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sole survivor of Vault 111 is Bric, who awakens in a wasteland after 200 years. She finds her fellow vault dwellers and former neighbors Nate and Nora dead in their pods - and their infant child missing. Bric sets out to find answers, and maybe a few friends along the way - but at what cost?<br/> </p><p>This is a slow burn, novel-length, relationship story. It's got a few scenes influenced by tumblr - I don't have an account but I love reading all of the Hancock tags. The focus is on SS/Hancock and Valentine, though MacCready, Cait, and Preston are all supporting. Mostly canon, though some liberties with order and details have been/will be taken. In the second half of the arc, Danse and Maxson make their appearance, along with Deacon and Glory. </p><p>Though this is done, I love comments! They keep my inspirations going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Cold start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brutal re-awakening for the sole survivor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this little epilogue is both short and slow. I debated removing it but don't want to mess up the chapters any further - so feel free to skip it and go straight to chapter 2 for far better action!

_I find damaged people beautiful._  
I find scarred people intriguing.  
I find broken people inspiring. 

_After all, they've been through_  
hell, and they're still alive  
to tell us about it  
\- Jordan Sarah Weatherhead

 

The floor was hard, and cold. I landed funny and a jolt of pain and surprise made me open my eyes. It was so damn cold, I rubbed at my arms, trying to get some slight flicker of warmth from the friction. 

Why are the lights out? Where the hell am I? Looking up, there was a cryochamber in front of me. Its single internal light bathing me in a warm yellow glow. Steam billowed from it as the last ice crystals melted away. Cryosleep. 

A war. Nuclear war. The threat we’d always lived under. A huge bright explosion. The bomb. **THE** bomb. 

_The end of the world._

I rubbed my temples to ease my throbbing head. It starts to come back to me. A vault. Shelter. Safety. We had gone underground. We were supposed to live there. But…

I stared down the dim hallway. In the shadows loomed dozens of other chambers. Tiny red and yellow lights blinked on consoles. A few beeped softly in the eerie silence.  
_They never said anything about cryosleep._

Standing up made every muscle in my body protest. I stretched a little. The end of the world. Sarah. **SARAH!**

Dashing down the hallway I checked every single chamber. Inside were frozen faces. The consoles blinked angrily with malfunctions. I pressed buttons and flipped switches in desperation. None of them worked. A few angrily beeped in protest. This was a giant frozen burial chamber. I shivered, as much from the sudden dread of realization as from the chill. None of the faces were my sister. I paced up and down my wing. There must be more, maybe she’s there. 

One chamber was open, the man inside was dead – shot. I shuddered. People were here. I peered at the body. _Nate? Jesus it's Nate._

At the end of the hallway was a door. I leaned on it, and cold hinges squealed in protest as the door slowly opened. I found another door and opened it. Another hallway full of icy coffins. 

Hours must have elapsed in the darkness. Chamber by chamber I searched. Some were broken open and held on the dusty bones of my once-neighbors. Most were broken. These weren’t meant to last this long. Something went wrong. 

Every single hallway of chambers searched, and searched again. No Sarah. My stomach rumbled. With nothing left to search I collapsed into a chair in front of an old terminal. A yellowed paper calendar on the desk was marked with dates and appointments from someone probably long dead. 

_Work meeting!_ The memory resurfaced. A last minute work meeting down in DC. My sister hadn’t been home when the bombs went off. 

The grief washed over me in a wave, bringing with it wracking sobs for the sister, the friends, the life, and the world I had known.


	2. Good Neighbor

The first time I walked into Good Neighbor, I watched a man die.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, I’d seen a lot of people die in the four months since I walked out of the vault and into this post-war wasteland. Many of them I’d killed myself. But this death was surprising, because it was the first I’d seen someone stabbed for being rude to me.

Nick had warned me, Good Neighbor was a rough area. But it was safe, and it was home to a lot of people who Diamond city wouldn’t accept. Nick was the first person I trusted in the Commonwealth. And he wasn’t technically a person, but a synth. A walking, talking, sentient android. A noir detective made of metal and wires with the hat and trench coat to match his demeanor. My friend the tin man had more heart than anyone I’d known – before or after the war. My search for answers from the vault had led me to Nick, and we’d partnered up. The wasteland was a little less dark with a friend to watch your back.

We walked in, guards closing the corrugated metal door behind us. 

“Well well well, it’s the detective. Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?”

We stopped, as a shaven headed, leather jacket wearing thug strolled over. I glanced at Nick, who narrowed his yellow eyes at the thug.

“Why, someone stand you up?” He drawled.

“Tryin’ that, what d’ya call it? Evasive language, on me?” The thug looked at me. “And who are you, huh? Valentine’s new dick-in-training?”

I rolled my eyes. I supposed technically after a month of working with Nick I was sort of his assistant. “We’re hiring, but I don’t think you’d measure up.” I gave him a slow look over – down then back up. “Definitely wouldn’t measure up.”

“Don’t be like that. You look like someone in the market for a little insurance.”

I don’t have time for this shit. “You better back off, or you’re the one who’s going to need insurance.” I slid my hand to my pistol, fingers wrapping around the stock with the promise of violence. It was small, but accurate, and personally modified for some special damage. 

“Whoa whoa. Alright now. We’ll just uh, say your insurance is all paid up alright?” 

I let my brow arch with skepticism. Funny thing about bullies, is they like easy pickings. I had made sure I didn’t look – or act- like one. Nick made a little grumble of protest next to me. He didn’t like it when I threatened violence. _And who are you now? I asked myself. That you enjoy threatening violence?_. 

“Whoa, whoa. Time out.” From the shadows of the alleyway across from us stalked a figure moving with a feline grace. In the shadows I could see the red cherry of a cigarette as he flicked it aside. He wore a leather tricorn hat, pulled down over his eyes. A rich red brocade jacket, complete with cuffs and silver buttons covered a formerly-white dress shirt, and knee high boots. _A fucking pirate?_ The jacket looked like it belonged in a museum. _It probably does, or did._

“Nick Valentine makes a rare visit to town.” He crossed into the light from the alley, and I noted the faded patches in the red jacket, the distinct bump of a weapon strapped to his hip. His voice was gravelly and low. “And you’re hassling his friend here with that extortion crap?” He stopped in the small square, inclined his head towards Nick. “Good to see you again Nick.”

I glanced at my companion, who returned the nod. 

“What d’you care?” The thug stepped away from me, towards the pirate. “She ain’t one of us.”

“No love for your mayor Finn? I said let her go.” The newcomers voice had a steely edge to it, promising it was a demand and not a request.

“You’re soft Hancock.” Finn spat. “You keep letting newcomers walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

“Come on man,” the pirate – Hancock, stepped towards Finn. “This is me we’re talking about. Let me tell you something.” He stepped closer, and moved quick enough that I didn’t see the blade until it was pulled out of Finn’s abdomen and slammed back in a second time. 

Finn groaned as he slumped to the ground. Blood began to pool around him, filling the gaps in the cobblestones. _You should be horrified._ A tiny voice in the back of my head said. But I wasn’t. 

“Now why’d you have to go and say that huh? Breakin’ my heart over here.” Hancock bent down, wiped his blade clean on the dying man’s pant leg, then it disappeared, back into a sheath at the small of his back. The red coat tails swished as he pulled his hand back out of his jacket. _Jesus he’s cold. And fast. Not one to cross._

“Now I know you had ole Finn here handled.” He studied me for a moment. Finally standing in the pool of light cast by the single street lamp in the small square, I realized he wasn’t human. The shadows danced over wrinkled and scarred skin – parts pink and shiny like scars. And he was missing a nose, and ears. “A Mayor’s gotta make a point sometimes. You all right?”

“Hmm? Oh.” I realized I’d been staring – curious, not disgusted. His eyes were dark – at first I thought there were no irises but after a moment I realized they were there, just difficult to tell apart from the former whites, which were now black. He was waiting for me to respond.

I shot Nick an annoyed glance that said _You could have warned me_. He shrugged. “Sorry, I forget you haven’t seen most of what the commonwealth has to offer.”

I looked back to Hancock. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t…met anyone like you before.”

He laughed. “While I’m sure that’s true – I am one of a kind – I think the word you’re looking for is ghoul. I think it gives me a sexy pirate king of the zombies kinda look. The ladies love it.”

I couldn't help laughing. “I’m sorry. I haven’t run into a …ghoul … before.” The word felt awkward. It wasn’t entirely true either. I’d killed dozens of feral ghouls – that’s what Preston had called them anyways. I just hadn’t realized there were other kinds. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s alright doll, just don’t go asking every ghoul you see those kinda questions. Most may not take kindly to it as I do.” He fished around in his pocket, finally coming up with a cigarette and lighter. With a click he lit up, taking a long drag. “Now don’t go lettin’ this little incident taint your view of our little community. Good Neighbor’s of the people, for the people , you feel me? Everyone’s welcome. Especially a friend of Nicky Valentines.”

I nodded. “Got it.” 

“Good. You stay cool and you’ll be part of the neighborhood. So long as you remember who’s in charge.” He inclined his head towards my detective companion. “Nick, good to see you again.” And then he spun on a heel and was gone.

“You know him huh?” I looked at Nick.

“Yeah. I find lost things. Lot of lost things wind up in Good Neighbor. C’mon partner, let’s go see about a room.”


	3. Caps and chems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doing some odd jobs for caps leaves Bric with memories she'd rather not have

“So what’d you find at Pickman’s gallery?”

I shuddered. “It…I don’t even know how to describe it.” I took a deep breath. “Pickman was…is…a serial killer. And he makes art with his victims.”

“Whoa. That’s some twisted shit.” Hancock stubbed out his smoke on an ashtray. He picked up a small bag of caps and tossed it to me. “Guess that explains the silence there.”

“Yeah.” I shook my head as if to clear the memories from it. “It’s empty now though.”

“You only had to do a little recon.” The ghoul cocked his head with interest. 

“I know. But…I didn’t want to leave it there. Cleared out the raiders. Cleared out Pickman himself too. He won’t be making any more art.” I made it sound simple. I left out the part where I’d snapped and let blind violent rage drive me to murdering every last raider in the building. They hadn’t buried their companions, they were looting the corpses of their former friends while inspecting the building, unperturbed by the gory scenes of ‘art.’ The last straw had been hearing their laughter and dark humor over one of Pickman’s pieces featuring a dead dog. I’d wanted them all dead, and that’s exactly what I’d done. 

“Huh, impressive.” The ghoul drawled, eyes glittering appreciatively. “You sure know how to handle a gun.”

I tried not to roll my eyes and ignored the remark, just wanting to forget about the entire experience. My patience had been growing steadily shorter as the days went by. It was supposed to be a few easy caps while I waited a few days for Nick and Dr. Amari to figure out how to access the memories in the pieces of Institute technology he’d found in Kellogg’s remains. _And that’s another image I’d like to forget too._ “Where can I get a drink around here?”

“The Third Rail, beneath this very building.” An approving smirk. He pulled a small tin from his pocket – I recognized it as chem called Mentats. He popped one pill in his mouth, and wordlessly offered me the tin. I shook my head.

“No thanks. Got any more jobs?”

He shook his head. “Nah, let you know if I do though.” Hancock gave me a questioning look – but seemed smart enough not to ask any more questions.

\-------------------------------------------

 

Down at the bar I ordered a double shot of whiskey and pounded it. The vibrant red ‘artwork’ of the gallery was imprinted on my eyelids, and I was hoping copious amounts of alcohol would wash it away.

Whitechapel Charlie, the robotic bartender, filled my glass with another double pour. The british accented Mr. Handy bobbed a greeting and went back to cleaning out glasses. I’d already learned he wasn’t a newsbot – his words. I was fine with quiet drinking. 

Nick wasn’t thrilled I’d gone off on my own while he was discussing plans with Dr. Amari in the Memory Den. In my defense it wasn’t alone, I had brought Dogmeat, the scruffy shepherd dog who’d claimed me in the first few days out of the vault. The furball laid quietly behind my barstool, eyes on the stairs.

 _I shot him right in the head_. I shivered and took a large sip of liquor. It was cheap swill that burned my mouth but it did its job, and I felt some my tension ebb away with alcohol induced warmth. Something about the gallery had made me snap. It was good Nick hadn’t come along, I didn’t think he’d have approved of my rampage through the building. _Who are you becoming?_ I wondered, but the drink in front of me offered no answers.

Dogmeat let out a soft little yip a moment before I heard footfalls on the steps in the lull of the music. Glancing over my shoulder revealed the bright red coat and hat of the Mayor, cigarette dangling from thin lips. Bar patrons greeted him warmly, and he sauntered over to a table making amiable small talk.

 _That’s a dangerous man_. Dogmeat seemed to like him though. He had a history with Nick. And the people of Good Neighbor quite clearly adored him. Those pieces of the picture said a lot about the ghoul mayor. 

Ghoul. I still didn’t care for the word, though Nick said it was the preferred term among many other far ruder monikers. I didn’t understand how it was different from any other medical condition, but apparently that’s my pre-war sensibilities kicking in. I stared at the last sip of my drink, lost in thought.

“Hey Charlie, gimme my usual.” Hancock glanced my drink. “And another round for the new girl here.” He leaned on the bar, sliding a mentats tin back into his jacket after popping one in his mouth.

I watched the robot pour the drink in my glass. I wasn’t about to get drunk in a still relatively strange town. Besides, tomorrow morning bright and early I was supposed to help with this memory dive Amari and Nick had planned out. So I didn’t take a sip. “Thanks.”

Hancock raised his glass towards me with a tip of his hat. “Cheers.” He took a swig of liquor, then raised a bare brow line with a questioning glance when I raised mine, but didn’t take a drink. “What, you don’t wanna share a drink with the Mayor?”

I shook my head. “No, just trying to pace myself. I have to help Nick in the morning.” I offered an apologetic smile. “And this is number three already.”

“Technically ma’am it’s 6.” Whitechapel Charlie said offhandedly. “Since you ordered doubles.”

I glared at the robotic barkeep. “I’d threaten you with losing your tip, but since you said not to give you one I guess that doesn’t matter.”

Hancock laughed, a warm rumbling sound. “I can appreciate a lady who can drink.”

“Just as long as my floors stay clean!” Declared Charlie, his accent adding to his offended tone. 

“Oh please, I’m not some freshman pledge.” I got blank looks from both of them. “Ugh.” I sighed. “I mean, I can hold my liquor Charlie.”

“Huh, I had heard you crawled out’a a vault.” Hancock said, settling onto a barstool.

I nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

He grinned. “Only thing more so would be one of those shiny blue jumpsuits to match the pip boy.” He whistled softly. “A vault dweller? Didn’t think your type were still around anymore.”

“I was frozen the whole time. Some sort of cryogenic experiment that Vault-tec failed to tell us they were conducting.” I took a sip of my drink, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. His posture was lazy and relaxed, but the glint in his eyes was alert and observant. _He wants to be seen at the laid back junkie, but he’s anything but_. I wondered again what his history with Nick was.

“People popsicles. I’ve heard of that before once. Hell of a way to spend the end of the world.” He sipped his drink. “How’d you get hooked up with Nick?”

I shrugged. “Something weird happened in that vault. The staff were dead. S’why the cryochambers were in disrepair. And I mean, we had pass tests to be accepted into the vault. Vault-tec had a plan. But then my neighbors – Nate and Nora - were thawed out and shot. And their kid is missing. Someone was in that vault while we all slept. I want to know who, and why. Those questions led me to Nick as someone who could help.” I shook my head. The liquor made my tongue loose and I hadn’t meant to share as much as I did.

“Nick’s got a knack for finding people. If anyone can point you to answers, it’s him. You’re in good hands.” Hancock studied me over the edge of his glass as he finished his first round. Surprise at my openness danced in dark eyes.

“I know.” I finished my drink. Something about Nick had made me inherently trust him – I chalked it up to his pre-war personality. And the fact he was the closest thing to a real cop I’d come across in the Commonwealth. He had a calm and collected sense of control that instilled trust. 

Comparatively, the red-frocked mayor made me leery. My first impressions of junkie playboy just didn’t fit with the respect the town gave him. Or Nick for that matter. There was something more there. 

Hancock bent down, idly scratching Dogmeat’s ears. The traitorous furball panted happily at the attention, whining when it stopped.

My head swam in the pleasant warmth of a drink too many. “Apparently I’m out of practice drinking, since here I am oversharing.” I shook my head. 

Hancock chuckled. “I think you’ve earned it. Everyone needs to relax now and then. I got a spare bed if you want.” A mischievous grin danced on the thin remains of his lips. 

“Does that line actually work?” I asked in disbelief, getting more laughter.

“Wouldn’t know, never tried it before. Usually the coat and hat are enough.” He waggled his brows with a cocky smile.

“Somehow I know I shouldn’t be surprised.” I stood up, shaking my head as I chuckled. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Leaving so soon?”

I nodded. “One, I don’t want to disappoint Nick in the morning. Two, before I say other things I shouldn’t.” I ticked off on my fingers as I spoke.

“I knew you were a smart one.” He tipped his hat in a polite farewell, and watch me as I left. 

In the Rexford I collapsed onto the bed, patting the mattress for Dogmeat to join me. I didn’t care what the hotel policy was. Between the warm fur of my dog and the buzz of alcohol I fell asleep, and hoped I wouldn’t dream of the gory secrets of Pikman’s gallery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some edits and rearranging of the first few chapters, but that's all set now.  
> I'll be aiming for daily updates, comments much appreciated!


	4. Old heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric poses as an old time radio hero, but doesn't act like one.

“Because I am the Silver Shroud!” I said in my best noir-hero voice. And then I dissolved into a fit of giggles. I couldn’t do it anymore. 

The two men in the room shared a glance. I use the term men, but a lot of people probably wouldn’t. At my shoulder was Nick Valentine, the best damn detective in the Commonwealth. He also happened to be a Synth. He wore a well-loved and patched tan duster and fedora. He was a noir-detective come to life. My Dad would have loved it. Nick looked and sounded like the radio show heroes Dad had loved. Nick looked at me with concern.

In front of us stood the Mayor of the Goodneighbor: John Hancock. Complete with red jacket and hat. Except Hancock was a ghoul – an irradiated human. His eyes were black, dark olive iris’s barely visible, and his nose was missing. His skin was pink and shiny in some spots – like a burn victim, but from head to toe. He looked amused.

“See Nick, I tell ya that cryo stuff messed with her mind. You oughta be careful with this one.”

“I am beginning to agree with you.” Both of them were smoking, and staring at me like I was crazy.

I coughed, clearing my throat as I recovered from laughing. “So, Sinjin is dead.” I avoided looking at Nick, disappointment still clear on his features. I’d skipped over the part where I’d slaughtered Sinjin’s guards – after they’d thrown down their guns. They’d believed the Silver Shroud routine – honestly thinking that the radio show hero had come to life.

They’d begged for mercy.

And I’d shot them point blank. Despite all the drugs, every advantage I could muster, I hadn’t been able to save Kent Connelly, the sweet ghoul who had asked me to become the Silver Shroud and ‘protect the people from the bad guys.’ I failed, and Kent died. Jet, pyscho, buffout – they hadn’t made any difference. Enraged by his death I’d executed three people. It had led to a fight with Nick. _Not much of a hero are you?_

“So, down goes the big bad Sinjin huh? We get to walk that tightrope of freedom one more day.” He tossed me a small bag. I caught it, just barely, with a questioning look. “Take that for your effort.” It jingled with caps. 

“The world’s better off without him.” I said, taking off my hat and running my fingers through my hair. I stared at the old hat in my hands for a moment, remembering Saturday evenings spent listening to the Silver Shroud.

“And the future is a little brighter. Good Neighbor’s just a little bit safer thanks to you two.” He took a drag, blowing the smoke away from me. 

“All in a days work.” Nick drawled. We both started towards the office door. 

“Hey hold up.” Hancock called from his office. “I hear you took care of a little rat problem in the warehouses too.” 

I stumbled a step, blinking in surprise. Nick shot me a glance. “I might have. Rats can be a big problem.” I shrugged at Nick. It had been a short request – didn’t even require leaving Good Neighbor. Just a little brushing up on my lock picking – a skill I’d learned in high school while bored. I’d recruited the help of a local mercenary named MacCready to do the job. Nick had needed a few days to recover after we explored the mercenary Kellogg’s memories in an effort to figure out what had happened to my neighbor’s missing kid. It had seemed safer to do a little breaking and entering in Good Neighbor on my own than elsewhere. The disappointment on the detective’s face deepened. 

“Yes they can be.” He took a long drag. “Tell Charlie I said to give you a bottle of the good stuff.”

I stepped out of the room but Nick didn’t. 

“Go on ahead Brick. I have something to discuss with John.”

Seeing disappointment etched on Nick’s face hit me in the gut hard. I’ve been picking locks, killing unarmed people, and enjoying the violence. He thought I was better than that. I thought I was better than that.

_Maybe I’m not. Are there really any heroes in a Wasteland like this?._


	5. Bad decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Nick gone, Bric strikes out on her own, and almost instantly crosses the wrong person.

It didn’t have come as a surprise to me when Nick said he had a job to do in Diamond City, and suggested I spend some time preparing for the Glowing Sea. Kellogg’s memories had pointed us to a man out in that irradiated wasteland of a crater, but I was in no way ready to head out there. There was no rush really – whatever had happened had been over a decade again, maybe more. A few more months wouldn’t change anything.

Nick’s disappointment at my handling of Sinjin’s guards weighed on me. Part of me realized I should feel bad at letting the detective down, but I only felt frustrated and angry at his judgement. _At least Dogmeat doesn’t judge me._

It also shouldn’t have surprised me that my solo decisions continued to be poor ones. Which is how a week later I found myself standing in the Good Neighbor warehouse, having broken in via a series of subterranean tunnels.

“You seriously didn’t think Hancock would catch wind of your scheme?” Above us, on a catwalk, stood the mercenary Fahrenheit. As far as I could figure, she was Hancock’s bodyguard and second in command. She didn't seem like the kind of person I wanted to get on the bad side of.

She was talking down to the ghoul woman who stood in front of me. Bobbi was a criminal, and had promised a fat stack of caps for helping her with a robbery. Except the robbery was supposed to have been the vault of Diamond City. Bobbi had kept me – and the rest of the team – in the dark.

“He took you in Bobbi, and you’re stealing from him?” Fahrenheit clicked her tongue with exaggerated disappointment. 

“Don’t listen to her.” Bobbi turned and glared at me and Mel – the tech guy for this little operation.

“What does this have to do with Hancock?” I said, my laser rifle kept low but finger lying alongside the trigger.

“Yeah about that. As Mel guessed, this isn’t the Diamond City Strong room.” Bobbi drawled without remorse.

“I see the rest of you are in the dark about this.” Fahrenheit said from above, leaning against a cargo crate. “Nice, No-nose. You all just broke into Hancock’s store room. You know, the Mayor of Good Neighbor?” 

I glanced around – there was a tractor trailer in the large warehouse, along with crates and boxes full of ammunitions, weapons, and food. I’m sure there was more in the unlabeled crates too.

“Damnit Bobbi!” Mel shifted his weight anxiously. He was a jumpy guy in the first place, and he looked like he was ready to run. But Fahrenheit wasn’t alone – at least two other guards stood with her. Running wasn’t an option.

“Listen guys, I know this isn’t what you expected. But there are still a ton of caps on the line here.” Bobbi said, her voice suddenly sweet as she tried to sway us. “Help me take her out, and all of it is ours.”

“This is Hancock we’re ripping off here. The guy tends to hold grudges.” Mel’s voice cracked with his anxiety.

“Counter offer.” Fahreneheit chimed in. “Just go back into your tunnel and we can forget this ever happened. What do you say?”

I sighed. This was supposed to be easy money. “What is this really about Bobbi? Why the lies?”

“I knew no one in their right mind would help me rip off Hancock.” Bobbi’s voice took on a hard defensive edge. “Everyone is so damn afraid of him, or so damn in love with him. He thinks he’s invincible. I wanted to show him he wasn’t.”

“C’mon Bobbi, if we leave now we leave with our lives.” I adjusted my rifle, pessimistic about convincing the hardened criminal. I felt a wave of anger at having been used by the older woman.

She shook her head. “I ain’t walking away from this. So choose Brick – me or her?”

Forced to choose I felt my anger and frustration flare. My vision reddened as I raised my rifle. “Sorry Bobbi.” I pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession, sending her stumbling backwards. Fahrenheit’s guards let loose with their own weapons. 

Bobbi went down, dropping to a knee. I sighted down the small scope and pulled the trigger again. The shot to her chest sent her over backwards, sprawled out on the ground, unmoving.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this damnit.” I clicked on my safety and slung the rifle across my back. “I’m sorry Mel.” He’d known her longer, and he looked saddened though understanding as he shook his head. I should have felt remorse, but I felt only annoyance at having been a pawn in someone else's game.

“Gunna be tougher to find work without Bobbi around.” He headed back towards the tunnels, to collect his broken robot that had dug the tunnels for us.

“You made the right decision.” Fahrenheit said as she came down to ground level. “Boss’ll understand. You oughta pay your respects with an office visit before you leave town.” Then she too was gone.

_What is this the damn mafia?_ But my gut twisted on itself with a cold wash of fear at the thought of facing Hancock. _Everyone loves him or fears him Bobbi said, guess I’m in the latter._

\--------------------------------

 

I was angry with myself for being afraid, fist clenching with a sudden wave of rage. I stalked straight from the warehouse to the state house in Good Neighbor, determined to face the mayor and come out alive. _Who am I?_ I wondered, and not for the first time. _I didn’t survive this long out of that damn vault to get offed by a freak in a pirate costume damnit._

“Well now, if it isn’t Bobbi’s little patsy.” He drawled as I stormed in. He tossed a bag at me. I dodged it, caught completely off guard. It hit the ground with a twinkling thud.

“Caps?” I bent down and picked it up, confusion in my eyes. 

“For protecting my stash.” Hancock said.

I faltered, indecision replacing anger. _Maybe this isn’t going to be a face off._

“Wise decision, puttin’ Bobbi down like that.” The mayor continued, leaning casually against the wall, arms folded over his chest. The table was strewn with drugs – empty bottles, jet inhalers, syringes -and a handful of pre-war money. 

“I didn’t exactly have a choice now did I?” I snapped at him.

“That’s what’s great about bein’ mayor. You’re always the safe bet.” He was smug, but there was something else weighing on his features. “Lemme tell ya, this classy little tricorner hat of mine is getting’ heavy. Am I turning into the man? Some kind of tyrant?” 

I cocked my head with confusion. _Why’s he telling me? Is he really asking me what I think of his leadership skills?_ I hefted the bag of caps in my hand, staring at them as I thought. _Something else is going on here. Or he’s having one hell of a chem trip._

“I spend all my time putting down the people I woulda been proud to scheme with just a few years ago. I need to take a walk again. Get a grip on what really matters –“

_Friends? Family? All of which I’ve lost?_ I filled in his sentence in my mind, which settled a ball of sorrow in my heart. 

“ – living free.” He finished. 

“Wait, aren’t you the mayor? Can you just leave?” I shook my head, brow furrowed with deepening confusions as I tried to figure out where this conversation was going, looking up from the bag of caps in my hand.

“Hey, the mayor’s still the mayor, whether he’s ‘in residence’ or not.”

_How the hell does that work?_ I wondered. _You can’t rule the town if you’re not here._

“I’ve walked outta here plenty of times. Keeps me honest. Can’t let power get to my head. That’s not what being in charge of Good Neighbor is about.” Dark olive eyes stared at me, waiting for some sort of response, or offer. I wasn’t sure.

I finally offered weakly, “Well I was heading back to Sanctuary…”

“Yeah I like it. I think you might be the right kinda trouble.”

_Wait. Did I just invite the pirate king of the zombies to travel with me? What the hell am I doing?_

“Let me just have a little chat with my community first.”

I stared at the balcony door as it closed behind him. _A second gun will make the trip back easier._ I felt bad at having left Dogmeat in Sanctuary my last trip back – before the Silver Shroud fiasco, before I’d let my only friend in the wasteland down by executing unarmed people. _I guess it can’t hurt. What’s the worse that can happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now we're gettin' somewhere.


	6. Combat frenzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloodlust leads Bric into trouble.

I had made a huge mistake. Actually I’d made a lot of mistakes, the number of seemed to keep climbing ever since I let Nick leave. _I disappointed him._ The thought made me feel guilty, and the guilt enraged me.

But this particular mistake was agreeing to let Hancock travel with me. His bawdy humor was getting on my nerves, for reasons I couldn’t figure out. I’d grown quieter, and quicker to anger. _Is this just how surviving in the Wastelands changes you?_

We were making our way to Sanctuary – a three day trip if we were quick, four if we weren’t. On the second morning we awoke to a radstorm on the horizon.

“We better move quickly, unless you want to end up lookin’ like me.” Hancock drawled, popping a mentats in his mouth. The chem affected perception and intelligence, and he seemed to take them regularly for the heightened senses it provided. “Suck down rads quick in one of those storms.”

I nodded, having seen one at a distance before and asking Nick about them. “We should be able to make it to Lexington by this afternoon, ahead of the storm. There’s gotta be shelter there.” 

As we moved into the decaying remains of the suburbs near noon, we heard the sounds of gunfire up ahead. We came upon the raiders moments later, and took cover behind a ruined car. 

“It’s a patrol, give them a few minutes and they’ll move on.” Hancock settled onto his heels, and fumbled for a cigarette.

“Or we could just kill them and help clean up the Commonwealth, one dead raider at a time.” The idea of violence sent my heart pumping. _Who are you?_

“I don’t mind spillin’ a little blood but –“

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said, because I’d already crept around the car and lined up my shot. I squeezed the trigger, hitting the first raider square in the back.

They shouted, and spun, laying down cover fire in my direction. I felt my adrenaline racing. The first raider went down and the thrill of the kill shot down my spine. I focused on the second raider, standing up and moving closer to him. My vision tunneled as the raider fell back from my onslaught. I heard the sounds of multiple guns firing in the general area, but ignored the chaos, focused on my target.

I heard a voice, but didn’t make out the words lost in the staccato blasts of gunfire and the roaring of my pulse in my head. So the force of Hancock slamming into me from the side sent me flying. I hit the ground hard, momentarily seeing stars from pain in my leg and face. 

“What the FUCK?!” I shouted. Hancock was already rolling off me, swinging his shotgun around just as the third raider was approaching us. The gun barked and my ears rang. The raider was far enough that the buckshot only stung him and sent him stumbling a few steps backwards. But it was enough of a window that Hancock sprang to his feet and stepped forwards. His second shot put the raider down on the ground.

He stalked forwards, dagger flashing in the sunlight as he slit the raiders throat.

“Goddamnit Hancock!” I sat up, rubbing my ringing ears. My knee was throbbing, and I tasted blood. A tentative probing with my tongue confirmed a split lip. I spat, more blood than saliva, and swore a few more times. As the combat high started to fade, I became aware of other bruises from hitting the ground, and the sting of a bullet’s close call across my side and bicep. “What the fuck was that? I had him!”

“Had him?” He spat the words, growing an unintelligible swear word as he spun around from the dead raider. “You almost HAD a bullet in your back.” He pointed at the raider I’d been focused on, who was dead – and I hadn’t done it. He’d been caught in the crossfire, killed by his own fellow raiders bullet. “This one was behind you –“ he pointed at the second corpse-“but you were too frenzied to even notice.” He shook his head, dark eyes glittering with anger. “Crazy bitch, you’re going to get yourself killed, and me with you.”

I tried to stand up, but my knee refused to hold weight and buckled from the effort. Stars exploded in my vision as I tried a second time to stand, the world spinning amongst the flashes of light.

“Sit that pretty ass down damnit!” Hancock barked at me. He was already fishing around in his bag. 

Shocked at his tone, I sat down hard. The world however, continued to spin for a moment long. My leg throbbed, washing out the rest of the aches and pains.

He came up with a stimpac and handful of clean cloth bandages. “You put weight on that leg and you’re going to damage it more than a stimpac can fix. I ain’t a pack mule, and I ain’t carrying you to Sanctuary.” He moved quickly, rolling up my pantleg. My knee was already darkening shades of purple. “This is gunna hurt.” He popped my kneecap back into place with a quick strong motion. 

I screamed, my vision narrowed to a pinprick and I fought not to black out. There was a sharp pinch, and then the warm stinging session of the stimpac injected into my leg. 

With a loud roll of thunder, a green lightning bolt from the rad storm flashed in the sky. It was closer than I expected. It sent fear lacing through my veins, and sweat sprang out on my forehead. “Goddamnit.” I muttered under my breath. 

Hancock took a second stimpac, depressing the plunger and catching a few drops of the medicine on a clean bandage. He pressed it to my lip. “Hold that there.” There was ruthless efficiency in his movements. I did as told, muttering again that I would have been fine without him.

“A ‘thank you’ would be appropriate.” He snapped, as he closed up his bag. Another roll of thunder and flash of green made us both look up. The sky overhead was filled with sickly green-gray clouds, and the wind was picking up.

“Goddamnit!” The storm was moving fast – faster than I expected. Being wrong about the timing of the storm wounded my pride. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I had it under control!” I snapped as I tried to stand up again. Hancock stopped me with strong hands on my shoulders, shoving me back down to the ground. My angered flared at the further insult to my pride.

“Wait for the damn stimpac to work.” He growled. 

“I had it under fucking control.” I muttered as I reached for my bag, but it was too far. Pride already wounded, I didn’t ask him to grab it for me, but he did so anyways.

“How many raiders were there?” Dark eyes glared at me, angry. 

“Three.” I said confidently, rooting around in my bag.

“Try five.” He pointed to the corpses with a smug look of vindication on his ruined features. 

I followed his gesture, counting the corpses myself. _Goddamnit how did I miss that?_ Instead of being chastised, I was newly inflamed. “They must have come from someplace else.”

“Or you rushed in without thinking. You’re going to get both of us fuckin’ killed sister, and I ain’t planning on dying to some low life scum raiders – friend of Nick’s or no. You’re going to end up 6 feet under actin' the way you have, if we’re lucky.” 

I found what I was after in my bag, pulling out a bag of Rad-away and a needle. Shoulda packed those rad-x tablets. It was another thing I’d screwed up. My pipboy was already making noises, the chattering ticks increasing in insistence as the radiation levels continued to climb. The area was growing darker, as dust kicked up tiny airborne particles stinging my eyes and the cuts on my face. The storm just served to keep my rage simmering as one problem rolled into another. I fumbled with the bag and needle. _Why don’t make this shit easier to use?_

“For fuck’s sake.” Hancock reached for the drug. “Let the junkie do it alright?” With practiced ease, the slipped the needle in the vein in my elbow before I could even protest.

I held the bag of medication, and gave it a squeeze. It burned something fierce and I winced.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

His tone sent a fresh wave annoyance through me. I glared at him. “Help me up.” He offered a hand and with a grimace I took it and stood. My knee took the weight, but not without pain. 

“Can you walk?” He was shouldering his bag, and already picking up mine even as I saw some sort of drug disappear into his pocket. 

“Don’t have much of a choice.” I started to limp in the direction of Lexington. Between forcing Rad-away faster than I should, and the radiation storm itself, my head throbbed and I fought nausea as we walked.

The first basement we found was collapsed in. The second was locked. The storm was growing steadily worse and my Pipboy ticked off the radiation levels as they reached dangerous levels. It’s shrill incessant beeping was getting on my nerves. I know its radiation damnit. I could barely see in front of me, but I fumbled in my pocket for a bobby pin and screwdriver. It took a few tries before the old rusty lock gave way, and I stepped aside and let Hancock pull open the heavy cellar doors. 

From below I heard the wet groaning and whispering scratching movements of creatures. “Fucking ferals.” I muttered, pulling out my pistol. I started down the steps without thinking. My knee went out, sending me tumbling down into darkness.

I felt the dry scratching hands of the feral ghouls, and the warmth of their breath on my face. _Damnit this isn’t how this ends!_ But I couldn’t see a damn thing. I felt the wet warmth of saliva dripping on my face, my arm, and a fresh burst of pain from my leg, before I fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my plan is to keep the daily updates, even with the holiday. I've got chapters all written, but need to spread out the updates to buy myself time to write the new chapters ;)  
> Comments are appreciated!


	7. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric finds out something she doesn't expect, and sets out to start over again with Hancock.

I woke up warm, laying in a dimly lit room. It took a minute for my brain to orient itself. The root cellar. The radstorm. I stared at the ceiling, where shadows danced and took stock of my body. Every muscle hurt, and my head dully throbbed, but nothing was painful –only uncomfortable. I flexed my fingers and toes, surprised to find everything working. I felt clear minded – more so than I had in weeks, in fact.

Turning my head I surveyed the room. A small oil lantern sat in the middle of the room on the floor, our packs opened next to it. On the opposite wall from me was Hancock, arms folded across his chest and hat down over his eyes, asleep. I watched the steady rise and fall of his breathing, as the shadows danced on the ruined skin of his arms. He was lithe in build, same height as myself. _No coat?_ I looked down at myself, and saw the dark red frock coat acting as a blanket. 

I let my minder wander over the memories of the day – raiders, ferals, mistake after mistake on my part. But the simmering rage that had accompanied those events was gone, replaced by a growing pit of shame in my gut. I studied my companion, feeling like I was looking at him for the first time. _You’ve treated him like shit, yet you’re the one on the mattress with a jacket to stay warm._

I started to sit up, making a small noise of discomfort as the movement pulled on the needle in my arm. Hancock moved a hand, pushing up his hat with one finger to study me with his dark eyes, which reflected the orange of the lantern. 

“Sleeping beauty is alive.” He drawled the ghost of a smirk touching his features for a moment. “Look, I ain’t been pleased with how things have been goin’. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. So you got a choice – You either change the way you’ve been makin’ decisions, or you find yourself someone else to travel with.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding as my silent response to statement. Sliding my gaze from him back to the room. First Nick, now Hancock. _How many people are you going to send away Brice?_

On the floor beside me was a pile of discarded medical items. I recognized the empty bags of rad-away, empty stimpacs, and two empty vials of med-x, but there was a fourth drug I didn’t recognize. 

“What’s this?” I picked up the vial, turning it over in my fingers.

“Addictol. It’s a hard crash, but it removes all the side effects. Leaves a wicked headache though.” Hancock was lighting up a cigarette, remarkably calm as leaned back against the cinder block wall. 

“But I’m not addicted to anything.” I cocked a brow, looking over to him.

“Mmm.” He blew out a mouthful of smoke slowly, then removed two syringes from his pants pocket. “Found these in your bag.”

I felt a flash of annoyance that he went through my stuff, but it passed. _He saved your life. Twice._

“How many times you used pyscho?” It was a question, no judgement in his tone. 

I shrugged. “A few. I mean, not that often. Sometimes I just need a little extra backup. Not enough for side effects.”

His knowing chuckle was rich as he shook his head. “Oh sister, pyscho is heavy stuff. It only takes a few to get hooked.” He set the empty syringes down on the ground. “I pro’ly should have recognized the symptoms, given my ‘expertise’ in this area.” Empty hands went habitually looking for his mentats tin, only to remember he wasn’t wearing his jacket. “Addictol might help you with those decisions you need to be makin’.”

“Symptoms?” I fidgeted with the empty vial, turning it over in my hand.

“Your attitude problems, for one.” He stood up, crossing the room in a few steps. He nimbly reached into his jacket pocket, fingers brushing my side as he did so. “The blood lust should have been the big tip off, though. Nick was right to be concerned.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Pyscho addiction and withdrawl lead to anger issues, to put it mildly.” He popped a mentats in his mouth, and slid the tin into his pants pocket. Hancock’s dark eyes were shadowed by his hat as he looked down at me. “Feel clear headed right now?”

I nodded. “Better than in a long….while.” I trailed off, sliding my gaze down to stare at the empty vial in my hand. “Damn.” I murmured as the weight of the evidence in my hands hit me. Chem addicted this whole time? I felt a rush of emotions: embarrassment at my naivety, guilt for fighting with Nick, guilt for how I’d treated Hancock, and relief that my growing anger and frustration weren’t really me. _You weren’t yourself._ A few hot tears of shame fell down my cheeks, which I quickly wiped away. _You’re a damn fool Bric._

“I am so sorry.” I said quietly. “I owe you for saving my life. Three times over apparently.”

“It happens.” He sat down cross legged, back to the wall beside me, and removed the rad-away needle from my arm with deft quick movements.

“Damnit I need to find Nick and apologize.” I sat up, sliding the red coat with me, not yet willing to give up its warmth. I flexed my knee a few times, testing it out. It was sore, but functioning. “I can’t believe this whole time…” I trailed off with a sigh. “I thought after a few months out here I was getting the hang of things, but I guess I was wrong.” 

Hancock said nothing, leaning his head back against the wall and lighting up a smoke. 

I looked over at him, purposefully making eye contact in the dim lighting. “Thank you.” 

His cocky smile was more in line with the mayor I knew. “So you do know the magic words of please and thank you. You are welcome sister.”

I reached into my pack and pulled out two cans of water, offering him one. As he took it, I realized what I’d thought were shadows on his side was in fact a blood stain, turned dark with the hours that had passed. “Are you alright?” He got shot because of you. No longer suffocated by chem addiction, my conscious nagged at me. 

He glanced down at his side, shrugging as he opened the water can. “Nothing a stimpac, some med-x, and good old ghoul healing can’t fix.” 

Med-x, which he’s still high on. No wonder I’m not getting chewed out like I deserve.

I glanced down at his jacket, fingers finding a bullet hole at hip height on the front, but not on the back. I took a sip of water, set it down, and went back into my bag again. I found a tiny sewing kit – one salvaged from the ruins of my old house, and set to work fixing it. 

The simple act of sewing – the up and down hand movements, was so strangely normal. I remembered spending time fixing my favorite jacket as a broke college student. After fixing the hole, I started inspecting the frock coat for other spots out of habit. I tightened up a few buttons that were loose, and started reinforcing a seam.

“You look like you got a bit of practice with that.” Hancock’s husky voice made me twitch with surprise – lost in memories I’d momentarily forgotten he was there.

“I was a broke college student. Couldn’t afford to keep buying new clothes so I tried to maintain the ones I had.”

“College? Guess you really are pre-war. I think I’ve heard about that before.” He blew smoke towards the ceiling.

“Aren’t you?” I blinked, looking up at him. Doing so made me miss a stitch and I stabbed my finger with the needle. “Damnit ow!” I sucked on the injured finger a moment. I’d been led to believe all the ghouls had been created when the bombs fell – something about the right dose and type of radiation with certain genetics.

Hancock’s laugh was a low rumble of amusement. “Nah. Found a drug while drifting. Was the best high I ever had. Woke up a few days later lookin’ like this. Worth it. And the immortality ain’t a bad side effect.”

“Immortality?” I tugged on the seam I’d strengthened, then continued to look for other spots. It felt good to be doing something so mundane and simple as sewing.

“Well, close enough to it anyways.”

I looked up, realizing he hadn’t taken his eyes off me. I was being studied and considered by the dark olive eyes beneath that tricorn hat. I bit my lip, the sense of being weighed and measured sending up butterflies in my stomach.

“Look, Hancock, if you want to go back to Good Neighbor after today, I understand.” 

He was quiet for a long moment, the silence reinforcing my belief that I’d been found wanting in the measure of those dark eyes. I was starting to grasp why the entire town of Good Neighbor either loved him or feared him in Bobbi’s words. 

“I’ll stay, for now. But no more bullshit.” 

I held out his jacket to him. “Fair.” The cellar was damp and cool, and I shivered. 

Hancock shook his head, not taking the jacket.

“You’re not cold?” 

“Nah, I’m hot enough for both of us.” There was that cocky twinkle in his gaze. I laughed, and it felt good. “But you don’t get to keep it. I want it back in the morning.”

“Damn, that’s too bad. I’ll have to find one of my own somewhere.” I spread it out over me, drawing my legs up to my chest. 

“Only one pirate king around here sister.”

“For now!” I smiled, resting my chin on my knees. I felt like myself again. “But seriously, I wouldn’t travel with me after that episode. I’ll tell Nick, he won’t hold anything against you.”

“You already trying to get out of these favors you owe me?” He smirked, grinding out his cigarette on the dirt floor.

“Not at all. I just ... I’m sorry.” It sounded simple and pathetic to my own ears. 

After a minute, Hancock shrugged. “I could have warned you without tackling you.”

My brow arched. “There are better ways to cop a feel than almost breaking my knee.” 

He glanced at me, unsure. I laughed, and after a moment, he chuckled. “So the mysterious vault dweller Brick does have a sense of humor under the chem addiction.” 

“Bricelyn.” I met his eyes. “My real name is Bricelyn.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am not a tumblr user, so I'd appreciate any sharing of this story you might want to do - I'd love to get some more feedback and comments.
> 
> This is my first fanfic in about a decade. It's side tracking my other non-fanfic stories at the moment, hah. From this chapter forward it is pretty much all Hancock all the time. I'm hoping I manage his characterization alright.


	8. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric makes it back to Sanctuary, and discovers that it's not as friendly to all as she'd thought.

For the second time, I woke up in the small root cellar and had to orient myself. I glanced over at Hancock, and for a moment thought he was still asleep. But the glitter of his eyes beneath the brim of his hat said he was awake, and been watching me. Still considering. He’d told me once he wasn’t much of a thinker – but I was realizing that was a lie. Like the coat and hat he wore, there was a lot more under the impulsive chem addict persona he adorned himself with.

“Mornin’ sunshine.” Hancock drawled. We both stood up, repacked our bags, and made our way out of the cellar. My muscles ached but I was surprised to discover how well the stimpacs worked. _Marvels of modern science I guess. Or past science, really._

Outside, Hancock pulled his hat down low and muttered, “Damn that things bright. When’s someone gunna turn it down?

I laughed, the sun was bright and warm, and combined with my new found mental clarity it felt like a beautiful day. Even the headache the addictol left me with wasn’t going to get me down. “Enjoy it while it lasts, be another rad storm before long.”

Hancock narrowed his eyes at me in annoyance of my chipper mood, which only made me grin. “C’mon.” We made good time, passing the signs of the Red Rocket as we headed towards the bridge to Sanctuary. As we crossed it I held out my hands, palms forwards in a gesture of peace.

“Ha-halt right there!” Can an unsure cry from one of the two guard posts stationed at the end of the bridge. A robotic sentry turret clicked as it turned and focused on us.

“Jun it’s me.” I continued forwards, slowing slightly with cautiousness. Jun  was a bit of an unknown – he’d been with Preston when I found them in Lexington. He and his wife Marcy were an odd pair.

“B-Brick? Who’s with you?” He wavered, and the gun bobbed up and down from the safety of the guard post.

I glanced at Hancock. “A friend.” His brow raised a fraction along with the corner of his mouth but he said nothing.

“Alright, you can come in!” We strolled past the guard posts and into Sanctuary. I could hear the banging of hammers as people were continuing to work on dismantling the houses that were beyond repair, and fixing the ones that weren’t.

Preston, leader of the minute men, had his own house with office. I had claimed one as well, the privacy a reward for rescuing the group in Lexington. _And it’s my damn house anyways – or it was._ The rest were shared amongst the group that had traveled here with Preston. At the center of town was a growing base of operations, with work tables and a power armor frame.

Hancock popped a mentats in his mouth, eyes brightening with the chem enhancement. He was studying the area, the people. His posture was cocky yet relaxed, one hand resting casually on the grip of his shot gun. He’d been quiet most of the morning as we traveled, keeping pace beside me.

“Hey Brick! Good to see you!” Preston Garvey strolled forwards, hand out. I shook it with a smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever make it back. You find out what happened?”

I shook my head. “Still workin’ on that. It’s going to take more firepower than I currently have.”

Preston looked at Hancock, brow raising with questions and disapproval flitting across his dark skinned features. I frowned slightly. I knew people didn’t generally are for ghouls or synths, but I had expected a little better of Preston.

“Preston, this is Hancock. I wouldn’t have made it back without him. Hancock, this is Preston Garvey, leader of the Minute men.” The two men sized each other up, quickly turning tense when Hancock ignored the offered handshake with only a bemused smirk.

“We don’t have a lot of extra beds yet.” Preston finally said, implying Hancock shouldn’t stay.

“Don’t sleep much, don’t need much space.” Hancock drawled lazily, dark eyes continuing to watch Preston with amusement at the Minute Man’s unease.

“It’s fine, there’s space in my place.” I gestured to the building at the far side of the road, failing to consider the implications of my offer. “C’mon, let’s set our stuff down and clean up. I’ll be back to catch up in an hour or two Preston.”

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

We spent a few days helping Sanctuary catch up on some repair work. A band of raiders had passed by and done a little damage, but the settlers had managed themselves well in combination with the multiple turrets we had built. Hancock hung around the little house I’d claimed as mine, helping with the occasional defensive patrol. Marcy, Jun, and the rest were uneasy with his presence. I found myself annoyed by their reactions.

It was made worse by Marcy trying to prevent a ghoul couple from moving into Sanctuary a few days prior. I’d been at the workshops, repairing and upgrading my leather armor, when I’d heard a commotion from down near the bridge.

I set my tools down and headed over to see what was going on. I found Marcy in a guard post, gun trained on a couple and their ancient Brahmin. “What seems to be the problem Marcy?” I said with as much authority as I could muster.

“These two want to move in here.” Her tone was harsh, and sounded as though she assumed I understood why that was a problem.

I nodded to the couple, who stood with fear in their dark eyes. Their clothes were dirt stained from traveling and patched in a few places. The Brahmin was thin – I could see its bones – and carried what few things they had.

I didn’t. I frowned at her. “So what’s the problem?”

“These TWO want to stay HERE.” She squinted up her eyes as she looked at me. “Sanctuary is a nice place to live.” She added.

I swallowed down my anger, licking my lips slowly as I chose my words. “And that still doesn’t explain why you’re pointing a gun at these farmers.” I shifted my attention to the would-be settlers. “You are farmers, right?” I’d taken a guess.

The male ghoul nodded. “We are. Or we were. Farm was overrun by super mutants – we barely escaped. They took everything we had. Found ole’ Dolly here a few days later. Dunno how she survived. We had heard Sanctuary was a safe place, from the recruitment beacon.” His voice was scratchy and dry, but laced with fear and disappointment. _How many places have they stopped only to be turned away?_

I nodded. “It is.” I looked back to Marcy. “So again, what is your problem?”

I saw her eyes darken as she realized I wasn’t supporting her decision. “I didn’t think we were letting their…kind… in.” She spat, despite restraining herself from using something derogatory, even as disgust was clear on her face.

“Sanctuary is just that – a sanctuary. For everyone.” There was a dangerous edge to my tone as I clenched a fist to keep from grabbing my pistol and whipping the look right off face. “So as the GENERAL of the Minute men – and the only one who technically, legally, owns property in this damn town – I say if they want safety and are willing to work, they’re more than welcome.” I saw storm clouds in Marcy’s face, so I added, “If you don’t like it, you are welcome to leave.”

She shut her mouth as she’d been about to speak, and glared at me. I was sure she’d go complain to Preston, but I’d deal with him later.

Turning to the farmers I smiled, in what I hoped was a reassuring manor. “I’m really sorry folks. C’mon, I’ll show you around – we’re sharing a few houses for sleeping space right now, but building more all the time. Could use a few people who know how to farm, to be honest.” I offered my hand, “Name’s Bric, welcome to Sanctuary.”

As we walked into town, and I chatted amiably with them, I caught a flash of red as Hancock strolled away. _Was he watching me?_

 

\--------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Mid-afternoon a few days later found a few settlers playing a pick up game of baseball in the old dead end circle. It was a warm day, and the raiders had been quiet, affording an extra hour or two to relax. I sat on the front step of my place, watching them play.

“And here I thought a baseball bat was just a fun way to say ‘hello’ to a guy.” Hancock’s dry voice was laced with amusement as he strolled over to me, bright red coat tails flapping in his wake.

I laughed. “It’s good to have a little time to relax. And I cleaned the blood off that bat before I gave it to them.” It got a faint chuckle from him as he came to a stop.

“When we gunna head out and cause some trouble again?” His match hissed against the steps as he lit up and sat down next to me.

“Probably tomorrow. Preston’s got a few places that need checking on. And I want to check out the Natick police department.” Preston had tried to argue with me over my handling of Marcy and the ghoul farmers, and I’d told him the same thing I told her: he can leave. I wasn’t about to help build another Diamond City. He’d been taken aback, but seceded that we needed all the help we could get. We’d laid out some ground rules for new settlers – needing to work to be part of the town and a three strike rule for anyone causing problems.

“Police department? Unless you’re lookin’ for some cuffs for …alternative uses…not much left in those kinda places.”

I chuckled, arching a brow. “Metal chaffs.” Hancock’s eyed widened with surprise and I laughed aloud. He wasn’t the only one who could keep making implications and bawdy comments. In the days since we’d returned I’d felt more like my pre-war self. _Maybe there is hope here after all._

“Nick is looking for some old holotapes. I promised I’d help.” A faint frown creased the corners of my eyes. “And I owe him. Maybe swing past Diamond city on the way back.”

“Nick’ll understand. He always does.” Hancock pulled out his mentats tin and popped one in his mouth, delicately crunching the table with practiced ease to speed its dissolution.

“Sorry if you’re bored. Offer still stands if you want to head back to Good Neighbor. I understand.” I had yet to figure out what was in this all for the Mayor, and a desire to make things right – to earn some of the trust simply being Nick’s friend seemed to have gotten me – had taken root in my mind.

He shrugged as he replaced the tin. “Hey, it ain’t like I got anything else to do besides wait around, get high, and be mayoral there.” He chuckled. “I can do that here just as well.”

The group playing baseball cheered as a ball went soaring high beyond the houses, drawing both our gazes. I grinned – it felt strangely normal to be sitting in sunlight, watching people play a pick up spots game. Across the way at the crafting stations I saw Preston, watching us. He had made his disapproval of the Mayor of Good neighbor clear to me when I’d caught him up on the last few weeks. _‘Good neighbor doesn’t attract the kind of people we want here in Sanctuary’ he’d said._ I thought of Daisy – the sweet ghoul who ran a store in Good Neighbor and shared my love of books – and was disgusted with Preston’s attitude.

Hancock and I sat in silence, watching the baseball game go on. I glanced at him a few times from the corner of my eye – thinking myself subtle as I pondered the last few weeks.

That is, until he smirked and quipped, “What, I got something on my nose?” He mimed wiping something off his no-longer there nose.

I laughed, “Just wondering what you owe Nick to still be hanging out here.”

A knowing smile brightened his features, “Maybe someday he’ll tell you.” He ground out his cigarette on the step. “’Til then you’ll have to keep wondering.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I missed the holiday - but mostly because I needed some extra time for writing the middle chapters as we build to the chapter that started this whole thing.


	9. Cleaning the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock and Bric start helping settlers for the Minute men, while looking for some holotapes for Nick. Making up for her past mistakes, Bric tries to make friends with the Mayor of Good Neighbor

_There’s a delicate type of beauty_  
In broken people.  
Most of the time they’re scared and sad,  
But every once and a while  
You see the sun shine through  
The cracks of their  
Heart and it lights up   
a small part of the world  
in a wonderful way.

_k.b.g_

 

“What have we…ah damn. Just stims.” Hancock sighed momentary hope at a chems jackpot changing to disappointment, as he passed the syringes off to me he pulled from a small medical kit on the wall. We had cleared out the Wicked shipping fleet’s two buildings of feral ghouls, and were digging through the buildings before heading back to Abernathy farm.

I stuck the stimpacs into my bag. “Sanctuary can always use stims. Some of us don’t have super healing powers.” The shipping yard had a few tools, old cans of food. “Oh hey!” I pulled out an ancient box of Sugar Bombs from a cabinet. “Loved these things as a kid.” I stared wistfully at the faded colorful box.

Hancock looked at me with disbelief. “Those things look like they’d rot your teeth about as quickly as battery acid. I think I’ll stick with chems.”

I laughed. “Yeah pretty much.” I set them down and kept looking. A handful of bottle caps, a roll of duct tape, a bottle of super glue – they all disappeared into my backpack. Rusty tools, torn and yellowed bits of paper, all remnants of the world that was were left where they are.  

“Sister you pick up some weird shit. Any of it worth anything?” Hancock drawled around a cigarette.

I shrugged. “It’s useful. As Sturgis says, duct tape fixes everything. Think fast!” I tossed him a small box of Mentats I found in a drawer. He caught them with ease with a grin. I didn’t entirely approve of his drug usage, but I was trying to make up for the previous week. They seemed harmless enough.

The sun was getting low. We’d spent the morning traveling to the farm, and then the afternoon traveling to the shipping fleet and clearing it. Starting over with Hancock, I’d found my pyscho-fueled anger hadn’t been at his humor, but at the memories he dredged up. The bawdy jokes reminded me of late nights spent drinking and laughing with friends now long-dead. _Gotta make new friends now. Just hope they didn’t suffer._ I tried not to dwell on the past. One foot in front of the other was how any distance could be covered.

“You see any luggage about? Someone had to be smuggling somethin’ fun around here.” He kept searching through the warehouse and old cargo containers, but most were empty. I picked the lock on an old tractor trailer and was rewarded with a few fistfuls of bullets and ammunition, and a frag grenade.

I balanced carefully as I walked across a narrow ledge leading to a partial second floor in the warehouse. Hancock watched me from below with amusement.

“You got thrill problems sister. You break somethin’ and I ain’t carrying you back to the farm y’know.” He called out.

I laughed, and stepped lightly onto the ledge. “Oh!” A happy gasp escaped me as I leaned down and picked up a book from the ground.

“Chems? Guns? Bucket full o’ caps?”

“Nope!” I held up the book. “Count of Monte Cristo!” I climbed down the ledge, landing with a small jump. “Always meant to read this one.”

“Books are a ghoul’s best friend. Not a lot of people wantin’ to talk to us.” His bemusement turned to something else I couldn’t quite identify as he watched me with the book.

“Really?” I lit up with interest. “Here –“ I rummaged in my back, pulling out a slightly  dog teared and dirt stained book. I handed it to him with a bright smile.

“This ain’t some romance novel is it?” He turned the book over to the back cover.

I scoffed. “No. Adventure and science fiction – it’s 20,000 Leaves Under the Sea.”

“Aren’t you readin’ this one?” He took the book, flicking the scrap of faded blue paper that acted as a bookmark with a finger.

“No. Well, yes. But I read it a year ago.” I frowned. “I guess it was two hundred and elven years ago, but …whatever. It’s one of my favorites, I re-read it every year or two.” I finally looked up at him, and saw bemusement on his scarred features. “Wait, you were speaking generally weren’t you? You’re not actually a bookworm.” I felt a little disappointed, and reached out to take the book back.

He avoided my hand, still reading the back cover. “Nah, just been a long while. Adventure huh? Might give it a spin.” Cigarette dangling from his mouth he flipped open the book, eyes catching the hand written note on the top of the title page.

 _To Bricelyn,_  
Never lose your sense of adventure and curiosity   
with love  
Mom

“I can’t take this.” Hancock lifted dark eyes to me and started to hand it back.

I hesitated, reconsidering letting him borrow it. I’d found it in the dust covered ruins of my old home, along with a few others. _I’ve trusted him with my life, I can trust him with an old book._ I didn’t take it.

“Just don’t lose it. By the time you’re done with it I’ll have finished this one.” I waved _Count of Monte Cristo_ at him, and the shoved it into my bag. “We should get going, we’ll make it back to the farm just after nightfall. They can come get the scrap metal from here another day.”

We headed out, crossing the gently rolling hills of the Commonwealth as we headed east. As the light faded I let Hancock take the lead, trailing behind him by a step.

We came up to Abernathy farm, a beacon of warm light in the dark early evening. As we approached I started to wave – but caught a faint red glow of a laser musket spinning up.

“Get down!” I managed to shout, yanking on the mayor’s red coat tails. With mentat-improved perception, he’d seen it before I did and was already dropping. The laser bolt whined as it went high of us.

“What the fuck?” I shouted at the figure as I stood up. Hancock was already half way to the building – I’d learned ghoulification came with a few other side effects and speed and agility was one, making up for a lack of strength.

“S-s-s-sorry!” came the cry, as Hancock came up on the teenager, knife in hand already.

I ran to catch up to them, coming into the warm light cast by the large barn. “Hancock don’t!” Lucy Abernathy was cowering, hands thrown up to protect her face.

With a frustrated growl he stepped back, lowering the knife. “Damnit girl watch who you’re shooting at.”

The shouts and gun shots had awoken the rest of the Abernathy family. Blake came out, gun in hand, eyes wide with fear. He glanced from Hancock to myself, to Lucy, trying to figure out what happened. I saw his eyes widen as he pieced it together. Lucy was stammering to herself about ghouls, refusing to look at Hancock.

“It was a mistake.” I said with more authority than I felt, as I met Blake’s eyes. “Couldn’t see us in the dark too well. You need to be careful Lucy, almost hit us.”

She nodded, body trembling with fear as she peered through her hands. “I d-didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” Realizing Hancock wasn’t threatening her anymore she stood up slowly, stepping back behind her father.

“Yeah…a mistake.” Hancock’s voice was tired and unconvinced, but the knife disappeared back into the top of his boot with a flash of movement.

“We took care of the ferals.” I met Blake’s eyes. “Shipping company is cleared out. You ought to go salvage what you can from it, some useful stuff there. Plenty of metal.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He seemed to consider Hancock for a long moment – before adding “There’s two spare beds in the back room, you two are welcome to stay.”

“Thanks.” I glanced at Hancock, who was still staring down the teenager with a mix of anger and disappointment. “C’mon.” I touched his arm briefly, before leading the way inside. We left the Abernathy family standing outside.

 

\--------------------------- 

 

We headed south, hooking up with and following the old highway. The travel was quiet and uneventful, compared to the previous day. A low plaintively bellow of pain carried across the openness. Coming into sight in the distance was a large dark mound on the road. We shared a glance of confusion, hands falling to weapons. As we got closer I recognized the mound as a Brahmin – one with double bullet holes in its thick neck. Its eyes were glossing over, explaining why the bellow we’d heard hadn’t been followed by another.

“Stop right there! We don’t got nothing left!” It was a woman’s voice, filled with forced confidence and threat but wavering with fear.

“Not lookin’ for any trouble.” I said, keeping my hands far from my weapons. I came around the Brahmin to find a woman standing up, knife in her hand. On the ground was a man, one leg wrapped in a bloody bandage. They wore simple dirt stained clothes – and I guessed them to be settlers, not a caravan. “What happened?”

“Damn raiders. Told us there was a road fee. Ed here refused to pay ‘em. They shot him, then the Brahmin, and took all our supplies.” She was shaking with fear and anger, knife clutched desperately in a white knuckled fist. I unshouldered my bag, and pulled out a stim and offered it to her on an open palm.

She looked uncertainly from me to Hancock. His posture was casually dangerous – like that of a predator waiting for its opportunity. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment with worry, before looking back to my offer. She snatched it from my hand and bent to give it to her partner.

The tension of injustice-fueled anger tightened my brow and posture. “What way did they go?”

She pointed south westward as she squatted at Ed’s side. “That way. Think they’re holed up at an old motel.”

I couldn’t hold back my growl of anger. “Give us two hours. If we’re not back then head north. You’ll come upon Abernathy Farm in a few hours. They’ll take you in.” I fished around in my bag again and came out with two cans of water, setting them down beside her.

I glanced over my shoulder at Hancock, locking eyes for a moment. Unspoken agreement passed between us, and I shouldered my bag again and started to head south.

We crept low as we neared the motel.

“Lotta raiders will take up in places like this, wait for desperate folks to roll through. Kinda shit makes me sick.” Hancock said quietly, breaking the silence we’d had since we left the injured settlers.

“One way to make sure they don’t take advantage of anyone else.” My voice was a harsh whisper, promising violence. “I count six.”

“Same.” Hancock’s dark eyes glittered with excitement at the pending combat. The long low building looked like it had once been a sleezy motel – a pay by the hour kind of place. There was only the one building and the rusted out remains of a few cars out front. Smoke rose lazily from a cook fire or two, and I could hear voices inside. I set my bag down and dug into it quietly as possible. Removing two Molotov cocktails I handed one wordlessly to Hancock.

“I’ll take the one on the roof.”

He nodded as he pulled a lighter from his pocket. With a hiss and click it sparked, and he lit the rags that tailed out of the two bottles.

We moved in together, throwing the molotovs. One made it through a broken window, shattering and splashing flames everywhere. The other exploded in the doorway. Screams and shouts went up from the raiders inside as they began to burn.

I dropped to one knee, sighting down the laser rifle at the raider on the roof, even as she was firing back. Forcing myself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly, I squeezed the trigger. The raider stumbled as the first laser bolt struck her chest. Holding my breath I squeezed again, the second one hitting her in the face. She went down.

“Watch it!” I heard Hancock and rolled to the side just as a raider came down swinging a baseball bat. I’d not seen him, focused on my target. I brought the rifle up as he raised the bat again, and fired repeatedly from the hip. He stumbled, but finished his swing. The bat struck home in my side, knocking the wind out of me. Grunting in pain I kept firing until he dropped to the ground.

Struggling to my feet I looked around for Hancock and the rest of the raiders. Breathing hurt, but there wasn’t time to think about it. Bullets whined and ricocheted next to me and I ran for the cover of the building. Flashes of red and grunts of fighting inside told me the Mayor was dealing with raiders of his own.

 _Where the hell is he?_ I watched for the next bullets, following them to their source: a raider obscured behind one of the cars. “Fucker.” I tore my pistol from my hip and dashed across the open parking lot after he ducked back down to reload. I came around the side of the car just as he started to raise his weapon. A split second faster than the raider I whipped the pistol around and fired until the clip was empty. The dying raider squeezed off one shot that burned as it grazed my side.

The motel was suddenly quiet. I stood panting, staring down at the dead raider. He was young, maybe a teenager. A sharp pang of regret stabbed my heart, and I pushed it aside. _He made his choice._ I turned towards the motel to see Hancock watching me. A freshly lit cigarette dangled from his mouth, corners upturned in a victorious smirk.

“You are one cutthroat gal.” He drawled, taking the smoke from his lips and exhaling. “Knew I was here for a reason.”

I winced as I bent over, searching the body for ammo and caps. _Bruised rib, if not fractured_.

“I might have a couple’a things to take the edge off.” Hancock said as he came to a stop beside me. “Yours if you want ‘em.”

I pocketed a handful of caps and a box of 10mm slugs and stood up, shaking my head. “I’ll live.”

“Your choice.” He shrugged.

We searched the motel for the settlers supplies, finding them mostly untouched and still in a large duffel bag. There wasn’t much else, few bobby pins, some shotgun shells, and few pipe pistols. I loaded them all into my bag. Hearing the familiar rumbling of an engine, I circled the building and was rewarded with a fusion core from the generator before we left.

I said nothing, and Hancock seemed content with the silence as we walked back to the settlers. Almost two hours on the dot from when we’d left, we were standing back in front of the dead Brahmin.

The woman stared at me slack jawed with shock. I held out her duffel bag of supplies with a wince. _Goddamn raider and his baseball bat._ Stims wouldn’t help much with bruises.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” She finally stammered as she took her things.

“Don’t have to. Head to Abernathy, they could use a hand. Or if you feel like going further, Sanctuary’s open to new settlers.”

“Heard about that, Minute men started it didn’t they?”

“Yep, they did.” I touched the brim of my militia hat as I gave her a nod. “Road oughta be clear, but watch out near the interchange – it’s Gunner territory.”

“Thank you.” Ed was standing now, and also staring with disbelief at both of us.

“Take it easy.” I watched them both leave, with their occasional glances of relief and gratitude back at us. It was late afternoon, and a breeze was picking up. “Might as well spend the night at that motel.” I said as I shouldered my bag again and started walking.

“You did good sister.” Hancock’s gravelly voice was tinged with admiration.

“Yeah, but does it make a difference?” I questioned aloud. In 200 years the world hadn’t picked itself back up. There were still the bullies, running the world with fear, and everyone else trying to scrape by.

“Made a difference to the two of them didn’t it?”

“Mmm. Point.” We walked quickly as the sun set, and by the time we reached the motel again my torso was one tight mess of pain. I dropped my stuff in the corner of the room, and slid down the wall to the floor. After unbuckling the leather armor I wore and setting it aside, I tugged up my shirt. My right side was already a purple and yellow mess, looking darker and worse against the paleness of my stomach and dark farmers tan of my arms.

“Ouch. They make chems for that y’know.” Hancock was watching me, brow arched with approval at the bared skin.

“I know.” I lowered my shirt with a grimace and reached for my bag. Rummaging around I pulled out a can of water and vial of med-x. The chems made me a little nervous now, having made a mistake once and not even recognized that I had a problem.

“I’ll take first watch.” Hancock settled into an old office chair, lanky legs stretched out front of him and crossed at the ankles.

“Alright.” I carefully measured out only a fraction of the pain killer into a syringe and stuck it in my arm. It took me three tries to hit the vein. I let the warm fuzziness of the med-x take me to sleep, curled on a dirty mattress with a jacket for a pillow.

 

\--------------------------------------------- 

 

Birds chirping and sun in my eye woke me with a start. _What time is it?_ I should have taken watch, but I hadn’t. I sat up quickly, wincing in pain with the med-x worn off. In the office chair Hancock was asleep, chin on his chest and the book I’d given him spread in his lap, one hand on the page.

I smiled at the scene, having had many a morning waking up with a book in my hands. Quietly I dosed myself again with painkillers and started to repack my bag, finishing my can of water.

I stood and touched Hancock’s shoulder gently. “Hey.” He awoke with a sudden jerk of surprise. “You should have woken me for my watch.”

“Figured you needed the sleep.” He stretched while yawning, carefully keeping his page as he put the book away.

“Apparently so could you.” I grinned as I met his eyes for a moment, before bringing up my pipboy. “Shouldn’t be far to the police department, then we can head north again.”

“Places all start to look the same out here. Good thing one of us brought a map.” He shouldered his bag, and we headed out. To the side of the building crows were flocking, feasting on the raider’s remains. We made it to the Natick police department with only a few run ins with oversized insects.

“Huh.” I stared at the damaged building – half of it had fallen into the lake that the police department used to sit on the edge of. It didn’t look like there was much there.

“My pop used to take me fishing in places like this, never caught anything that didn’t try to eat us first. Damn if it wasn’t fun.” There was wistfulness in his husky voice as he stared out at the lake. “What are we looking for?” Hancock put his mentats tin away, chem already in his mouth.

“A holotape. Something about Eddie Winters.” I headed into the ruins, carefully picking around the debris. I made my way carefully upstairs, checking each old desk and broken terminal. I jingled a set of handcuffs I found.

“Bet those saw some fun in their day.” Hancock’s brows waggled with the implications, and I laughed.

I climbed the stairs to the broken second floor. The area smelled of dampness and pond water – and I could hear the chittering of mirelurks and call of birds down the shoreline. Most of the desks were damaged as I picked through them.

“This got something to do with who Nick was?” Hancock called from below as he poked through the old holding cells.

“Yeah, the detective who’s memories he has. Bingo!” I sat down at a desk, the terminal stuttering into life as I pushed a few keys on the keyboard. Its screen glowed green, and I started typing away trying to find a way in.

“Like this one?” I heard Hancock’s rasp voice from below and the metallic sound of an old locker being opened. The terminal I’d sat down at finally gave way to my hacking attempts, and I jotted down the notes of other departments that might have some holotapes before heading downstairs.

Hancockwas holding a small orange and white holotape in one hand. “It was in a locker.” He said as he handed it to me.

“Excellent.” I pressed a few buttons and the pip boys top deck popped open. I slid in the holotape to listen to it –confirming it was Eddie Winters – and then pocketed the disk. “That’s the 4th one, six more to go. Nick said there were ten in all.”

Hancock nodded. “Not much else here.” As if on cue, the clattering clacking sound of a mirelurk echoed in the damaged building. It came crawling up from the water, chittering at us angrily. I slid my pistol from its holster and sighted down the barrel at the creatures soft underside. Squeezing off a few shots, Hancock stepped towards it and buried his dagger into its underside with a single powerful stroke. Neither of us batted an eye.

 

At the Interchange we stayed low to avoid the Gunners who were based on the overpass. I checked my pipboy a few times to make sure we were headed in the right direction. We turned East, and crossed the river.

“Is a detour to Diamond City Garvey-sanctioned?” Amusement laced in his gravelly voice as he flicked a butt onto the road.

I shrugged, “No. But it’s technically not disallowed either. I mean, I’m supposed to be the General.” I glanced at the butt on the ground. My instinct was to comment about not littering – but who the hell was I kidding? Garbage was everywhere.

“Disobeying orders? I like that.” A rumbling chuckle.

“It’s not really disobeying…I did what he asked. Now I have some other things to do.” _Like apologizing to Nick_. “Looks like some old houses over there we can use for the night.”

They were flooded out, but the second floors of the once-fancy estate houses were dry. We cleared out a few mirelurks from the area. I practiced on them with my dagger, saving the bullets. As darkness fell we cleared out the houses, finding little of use besides an old comic and bottle of bourbon, and picked the one that looked the least likely to collapse on us to spend the night.

There was an almost full moon, and its pale blue-white light was enough to see by, though not enough for reading. Not wanting to risk the Gunners getting curious, we opted not to start a fire. I cracked open the bottle of liquor and took a long sip, earning an approving smirk from Hancock before I passed it to him.

“Gal who shares always has friends.” He remarked before taking a sip himself.

I sat down, leaning back against the wall and facing the broken corner of the house where the stairs came up. In the distance I could make out a few orange glows up high, presumably the fires of the Gunners on the overpass. Hancock stood, holding the bourbon bottle.

I cocked my head, gesturing towards the wall beside me for him to take a seat. There wasn’t much room under what remained of the roof in the off chance it rained. “Pretty sure you don’t bite.”

“Only when asked.” Smirking he took a seat, passing the bottle back to me. We were shoulder to shoulder, bags strewn at our sides.

I laughed, taking another swig. “This is better than the swill Charlie has.”

“That’s because he keeps the good stuff for me.” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “What? It’s my bar.”

“Mm, fair.” I settled back, wedging the bottle between us. “There used to be this little bar in Lexington, looked like an old speakeasy. They had some fantastic drinks. Sure it’s rubble now, wonder if a few bottles aren’t still there.” I sighed, nostalgia for how things were filling my heart.

“You probably remember what most the Commonwealth looked like.”

I shook my head. “Not really. Only lived here a year before the bombs fell. I mean, I grew up here – in the house in Sanctuary – but left for school at 18 and didn’t intend to come back.” I reached for the bottle and took a sip, letting the fiery liquid warm me as the night cooled.

“Why’d you come back?” Hancock’s rough fingers brushed mind as he took the bottle from me. There was curiosity in his eyes. ‘ _He knows everything that goes on in this town’ Fahrenheit had told me. How much of it does he learn sharing a drink I wonder?_

“My parents died. Car accident.” I looked away, a pang of heart ache in my chest.

“Hey if you don’t want to talk about, don’t.” His husky voice was filled with sympathy, dark eyes not hard to read this close.

“Nah, it’s ok. They would have died in the bomb anyways I guess. Had to come back to deal with the estate. Didn’t much like my old job, and the house was paid for. Figured I’d try starting over again here. Didn’t get too far before the world ended.” I tilted my head back until it the touch wall, looking up through holes in the ceiling at the stars above. “I was just starting to make up with my sister.”

“Wasn’t she in the vault with you?”

“No. She’d gone to DC two days earlier – a business trip. I assume DC is destroyed now.”

“Wouldn’t know personally, but ask MacCready – he’s from the Capital Wastelands. Maybe she wound up in a vault there.”

“Maybe.” _But probably not. I only hope she hasn’t spent two hundred years as a feral ghoul._ We sat in silence for a while, listening to the quiet night around us and occasionally passing the rapidly emptying liquor bottle between us.

“Hey Bricelyn, about that whole Bobbi thing.”

I turned my head to look at Hancock. In the dark it was hard to make out his expression, but his voice sounded like something was weighing on him. He’d lit up, holding the cigarette against his thigh when not taking a drag.

“I ain’t proud of having to put you through that. That sort of dictatorial shit ain’t usually my style.”

“You seem pretty torn up over Bobbi. Was there something between you two?”

“Nah, nothing like that.” He exhaled slowly, careful smoke rings drifting up towards ceiling, catching the pale moonlight. “I just hate seeing guys like me use their sway to do that kinda harm. That kinda bull’s the whole reason I became mayor in the first place.”

I took a sip of bourbon, listening to Hancock talk. _He needs to get this off his chest._ The husky growl was admittedly pleasant to listen to, so I wasn’t about to complain.

“Some ass named Vic ran the town for I don’t know how long before that. Guy was scum. He used us drifters like his own personal piggy bank.” He took the bottle when I offered it, taking a swig and setting it back down between us. “He had this goon squad he’d use to keep people in line. Every so often he’d let them off the leash, go blow off some steam on the populace at large.”

“What an asshole.” I muttered, as I drew one leg up and adjusted myself so I could watch Hancock as he spoke.

“Folks with homes could lock their doors, but us drifters, we got it bad. There was one night, some drifter said something to them. They cracked him open like a can of cram on the pavement.” An angry edge crept into Hancock’s low voice as he remembered the event. “And we all just stood there and did nothing.”

“Hey, you can’t blame yourself. Sounds like you were outmatched. Probably would have killed you too.” It sounded a bit weak to my own ears, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

“You’re right, but it was still spineless.” That angry growl of regret was still there as he reached for the liquor bottle. “I felt like less than nothing. Afterwards I got so high I blacked out completely. When I came to I was on the floor of the old state house. Right in front of the clothes of John Hancock.”

I gasped with over-exaggerated surprise, eyes mockingly wide as I said “You mean you’re not THE John Hancock?” I drunkenly giggled, shaking my head as I grinned. “Sorry.”

Hancock laughed. “S’alright. John Hancock was the first American Hoodlum, and defender of the people. I might’ve still been high, but those clothes spoke to me, told me what I needed to do. So I smashed the case and put them on, and started a new life. As Hancock.”

I gave him a skeptical look, reaching out to pinch a bit of red fabric between my fingers. “You don’t really think these clothes _spoke_ to you - do you?”

“Nah, I just felt, you know, a connection. It seemed like he and I were dealing with the same shit – serious oppression.”

“Ok good.” I let go of his jacket and sat back. “How’d you deal with Vic?”

“I went clean for a bit, got organized, convinced Kleo to loan me some hardware.” He lit a new cigarette from the embers of his old one. “Got a crew of drifters together, and headed out into the ruins to start training. Next time Vic’s boys went on their tear, we’d be ready for ‘em.”

 _Damn that’s a lot of work._ I found myself admiring his determination. _I knew there was a reason Nick liked him._

“So the night of, we all got loaded. Let Vic’s boys get good and hammered, and burst from the windows and rooftops where we’d been hiding. They never even saw it coming. We didn’t have to fire a shot. Didn’t have to but we sure fucking did. It was a massacre. Strolled right in to Vic’s quarters in the state house, wrapped a rope around his neck, and threw him off the balcony.”

“Jesus.” I breathed the remark in amazement at the brutal efficiency. I suddenly understood why the inhabitants of Good Neighbor both loved and feared their Mayor. I found myself awed and horrified in the same moment.

“There I am, gun in hand, draped in Hancock’s duds, lookin’ at all the people of Good Neighbor assembled below. I had to say something. That first time I said ‘em, they didn’t even feel like my words: ‘Of the people, for the people!’ was my inaugural address. Became Mayor Hancock of Good Neighbor that day. And from then on, I vowed I’d never stand by and watch. Ever again.” There was determination and conviction in his words – a promise to himself, and to the Commonwealth.

 _I think he’s a junkie looking for a little adventure, then he goes and says shit like that._ I was comfortable – relaxed for the first time in days with a mind quieted from the haze of alcohol. “You fought so hard to become Mayor, so why leave?” it had bothered me since he first said he was going to travel with me – that and I wasn’t sure how one could still be a Mayor but not be in residence.

“I ain’t really the ponderous type. When an instinct takes hold, I listen. This time around, instinct said I should join up with you. Seems it was a good one.”

We both reached for the bottle at the same moment, laughing as our hands briefly touched. He gestured that I take it. The night had grown dark, but the moon had climbed higher and my eyes had adjusted.

“Instinct, or Nick?”

A knowing grin danced on his shadowed face as he finished the bottle. “Maybe both.”

“And even with last week?”

“We all make mistakes. Look, I just hope you get where I was comin’ from. I ain’t out to bring harm to anyone that didn’t earn it.” He seemed to consider things before adding, “I’m getting’ the distinct idea that you got the same plan.”

I nodded in confirmation. He had seemed to have forgiven me for the raiders since we helped the settlers the previous day.

“You probably heard enough of me running my mouth for one night.”

“Nah, I could listen to you for hours.” Hancock shot me a cocky smile. We sat in companionable silence for a while, before I finally asked “So…who were you before?”

“Hmm? Just a drifter. Moving from one chem fix to another mostly.”

“No, I meant your name.”

He seemed to consider for a moment, before replying. “John McDonough.” Even in the pale light I could tell he was watching me for my reaction.

“McDonough…like the mayor of Diamond City?” 

“He’s my brother.” There was a lot left unspoken with that simple sentence.

“Older or younger?”

“Older.” That got a raised brow of interest. “Why?”

“Just doing some math.” I grinned.

“Good luck with that.” Hancock’s raspy chuckle  made the faint red cherry of his smoke bob up and down.

I laughed. We continued talking with tongues loosened by liquor, until sleep claimed us.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One step closer to the chapter that started this entire thing. Figures I was 2000 words short of my NaNoWriMo original story of 50k, but I will break 50k with this fix soon in half the time of December, hah!


	10. Closer calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a close call on the way to Diamond city, Hancock and Bric bring the holotape to Nick, and mend bridges. With plans to swing by the library, they get side-tracked by a strange radio signal and a stranger in need of help.

The fields turned into the ruins of suburbia as we neared the former downtown Boston on our way to Diamond City. We moved quietly, alert for raiders, ferals, mutants, or anything else that might stalk amongst the tall buildings just out of sight.

As we passed a corner pharmacy, Hancock ground out his cigarette and grinned. “Bet there’s some chems worth taking in there.” He headed inside, red coat tails flapping.

As he did I saw the tripwire.

“Hancock!” I grabbed his arm and yanked hard just as his ankle tripped the wire. We went sprawling awkwardly into the street just as the blast of a fragmentation mine finished knocking us down. _Someone probably heard that._ My pulse pounded in my ringing ears, while my already injured ribs flared anew with pain.

“Damnit!” Hancock was sitting up, holding his leg. A vicious piece of shrapnel stuck out of his thigh and he grimaced.

I had to find my backpack, knocked off by the explosion, before I could tear into it and find a stimpac and length of cloth bandage. I tossed the half-empty bottle of med-x and syringe into his lap. “This is gunna hurt. Sorry.” I pulled the metal out and he hissed sharply. I pressed down hard with the bandage with one hand, other one flicking the cap off the stimpac.

“Get down!” Suddenly Hancock grabbed my shoulders and pulled me forwards. The ground shook with a secondary explosion from the old car next to the pharmacy. The fire had smoldered and set off the remains of its nuclear engine. I felt the blast wave, and a few pieces of shrapnel that bounced off my leathers.

Pressed atop Hancock I could just barely hear the angry clicking of my pipboy as the radiation levels spiked from the explosion. Everything sounded like it was under water, and I found myself close enough to Hancock we could kiss. His radiation damaged skin made it impossible to tell if he was blushing – I knew I was – but his dark eyes were amused.

I started to sit up, realizing the awkwardness of our position, and laughed. “What was it I said about better ways to get close?”

He chuckled. “Ain’t one to complain about a woman on top.”

I sat back onto my knees, and found the stim I’d dropped. I stabbed it into his leg, finding the bandage and pressing it back into position with my other hand. I watched the stim slowly dispense its medication before pulling it out, clenching my hands into fists to keep them from trembling. _That was too close._ _This entire damn world is trying to kill us._

“We should move. In case anyone heard that.” My eyes met his with some concern. “Think you can walk?”

Hancock finished putting what remained of the med-x into his arm, and nodded. I stood up, grabbing both our bags and putting them over my shoulder. I offered him a hand, grasping his forearm as he grasped mine and stood up. He started to walk, with a bit of limp as the stimpac worked.

I stepped up beside him, lifting his arm to put it around my shoulder.

“I can manage.” He protested, but I only laughed.

“It’ll be faster.” Thankful we were the same height, which meant neither one of us had to bend awkwardly, we fell into step and headed for the Jewel of the Commonwealth without further incidence.

 

\------------------------------------------ 

 

“You can’t bring that _thing_ in here.” The guard at Diamond City’s front gate was blocking my way. He kept casting quick glances at Hancock beside me.

Hancock stood tall, the stimpac having finished its work. His pant leg was blood stained and torn, but the leg was healed up – another scar amongst the rest.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you can’t bring that thing in here.”

I knew Diamond city didn’t allow ghouls to live there, but this was ridiculous. My patience was gone after ten minutes of arguing with a scared bigot hiding behind a baseball bat. “Exactly how happy do you think the Mayor will be if you start a war with the Minute Men?” I stared the guard down in his catcher’s mask and chest piece, hands resting with the promise of violence on my weapons.

I saw him falter, his conviction suddenly wavering as he considered my question.

“That’s what I thought. Since I think we’d all rather not have that happen, I’m going to head into the city, and you’re not going to stop me, or my friend. We’re not staying, so deal with it.” And with that I stalked past him and towards the old baseball field that now served as the largest city in the Commonwealth.

In the hallway through the stands, Hancock caught up to me, chuckling wickedly. “Damn sister.”

“Fucking assholes.” I muttered, annoyed with the guards attitude. I’d been afraid of the feral ghouls those first few months – but not for their desiccated looks but for the threat they represented. I felt only pity and sorrow at their state – minds gone but bodies continuing onwards. And then I’d met Daisy, Hancock, and Kent. I got over the similarities to old zombie movies and saw only people. GOOD people.

“McDonough ain’t gunna like that.” A hiss of a match indicated he had struck up a smoke

I shrugged. “Ask me if I care.” We came out into the marketplace – the guards on this side giving us confused and fearful glances. Nat was on her box, calling out about the latest edition of Publick Occurences. I waved at her, and she dropped a copy of the paper in surprise at the sight of me and Hancock.

I led us towards Nick’s offices, trying to ignore the attention we were attracting. I knew now why Bobbi had worn a gas mask when she’d met me here. Hancock’s flamboyant attire – the bright red against the drab browns of the rest of the commonwealth – surely wasn’t helping. I walked quickly, figuring things would die down once we got inside Nick’s office.

Beneath the bright red neon glow of the heart logo of Valentine Detective Agency I hesitated. My hand was on the door, but I froze. _I let Nick down. Does he even want anything to do with me?_

“Hey.” Hancock’s raspy voice was soft, and I felt his reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Nick’s been around. Ain’t nothing he hasn’t seen before. He’ll understand.”

I glanced back at him, unafraid to meet those black eyes anymore. “You think?”

“I know Nick, doll, and he’ll be glad to see you.”

Pushing past my uncertainly I opened the door.

Nick was in the middle of talking to Ellie, his assistant. They both looked up as the door opened, and the synth’s bright yellow eyes widened with surprise – and joy.

“Well now, ain’t this a surprise.” He drawled around a cigarette. “Bric it’s good to see you.”

“Oh Nick! I am so sorry. I… wasn’t myself.”

“It’s alright kiddo, the Commonwealth’s a rough place to get used to.”

“But you were right, about everything. And I screwed up.” I fished in my bag for the holotape, handing it to him. “I found that, though.” I looked at him with some hope for forgiveness.

“One of Eddie Winters’s old holotapes? Where was this one?” My synthetic friend took it with bright eyes, another piece of the puzzle he hoped would lead him to the old crime boss- and a peace of mind for the man who’s memories he had.

“Natick. And there was a working terminal there, that said two other tapes had been loaned out to some other departments. I’ll grab them when I’m next near them.”

“Thank you Bric, this means a lot to me.”

“I am so sorry Nick.”

“It’s alright kid, consider it case closed.”

I smiled as I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. Nick was the first person to really help me in the Commonwealth, and I’d let him down by acting like the villains we were after. _I’m going to live up to your expectations Nick._

“John, never thought I’d see you here in Diamond city.” Nick stabbed out his cigarette on an ashtray on his desk.

Hancock chuckled. “Bric was…’persuasive’ with the guards.”

I grinned sheepishly. “If the asshole at the gate thought I was implying I had a Minute men army…that’s his problem, not mine.”

Nick gave me a glance of amused disapproval. “McDonough won’t like that.”

“That’s what he said.” I pointed at Hancock.

“And he would know.” Nick and Hancock shared a glance – a conversation passing between them that I wasn’t privy to. “You two been traveling together long?”

I counted the days in my head quickly. “Almost two weeks, or so.”

“She tried to rob my storeroom.” Hancock remarked with a grin, cigarette dangling from thin lips.

“And she’s still breathing? You always did have a soft spot for a pretty face John.” Nick chuckled.

“I didn’t know that it was HIS storeroom!” I laughed as I shook my head. “Anyways Nick, You got any cases that you need a hand with?”

He stepped behind his desk, shuffling through a few manilla folders before shaking his head. “I’m caught up, thanks to your help with those old cases. I’ll let you know if I do though. You two headed back to Good Neighbor?”

I glanced at Hancock, and shrugged. “Sanctuary, I think. Might swing past the old public library first though.” Glancing at my pipboy for the time, then to each of the men, I said “I wanted to say hi to Piper first though, won’t take long.”

A noncommittal shrug from Hancock said he’d be here in Nick’s office when I was done.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------- 

 

“So my sources tell me you were seen entering Diamond city with a red-frocked and pirate hat wearing ghoul.” Piper grinned as she tapped her pen against her notebook. “Which is impressive, since ghouls aren’t allowed in the Jewel of the commonwealth.”

I laughed. “I knew Nat’s spot near the door to hand out the paper wasn’t a coincidence.”

“I never reveal my sources. “ She laughed. “I know one ghoul who meets that description, so tell me how you wound up hanging out with the Mayor of Goodneighbor.”

“Heh, it’s a long story. And one only available off the record.” We sat on the couch in Piper’s small apartment and workspace.

She set her notebook down with a laugh. “Alright then, spill it!”

“Well, after Nick came back here, I tried a few jobs on my own. One of them ended up with breaking into the Good Neighbor stronghold.” I heard Piper’s gasp of surprise. “I didn’t take anything. But I had to put down the woman who planned the whole con. She didn’t give me a choice.” I sighed. “Anyways, after that, Hancock declared he needed to ‘take a walk’ and see the Commonwealth lest power to go to head, and started tagging along.”

Piper looked at me with disbelief. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t get killed in that Blue! Hancock’s not known for mercy.”

“Eh, he’s not unreasonable.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to get into the details with her, and I knew Piper could pry. We continued to catch up on the weeks since I’d seen her last. I lost track of time, until there was a knock at the door and I glanced at my pipboy to see that a few hours had elapsed.

Piper opened the door to Nick and Hancock, who stepped inside.

“So much for ‘won’t take long’” Hancock remarked as he slid his mentats tin back into his jacket.

I shrugged apologetically.

“The Mayor of Good neighbor right in the very offices of Publick occurences – never thought I’d see the day.” Piper was reaching for her pad and pen.

“Sorry darlin’, I ain’t got time for an exclusive today.” Hancock drawled with a smirk before turning to me. “There’s a radstorm comin’ in. Since I assume you’d rather not lose that smooth skin of yours, we best wait until tomorrow to head out.” Hancock’s attention shifted from me to Piper with a slight nod.

“How much of a problem is that going to be?” I looked to Nick. “Are the guards likely to give us a hard time?”

Nick shrugged, “They might. While I’m sure they’ll know you haven’t left, they probably won’t go looking for you, long as you keep your heads down.” With his last statement he glanced pointedly at Hancock, who smirked.

“Alright then, guess we stay.”

“I got a spare bed you can use Blue.” Piper grinned. “More time for my interview you still owe me.”

“Takin’ up with lil miss reporter huh?” Hancock mused with a smirk, “I’m jealous.”

I chuckled as Piper shot him a look. “I can’t tell if that’s compliment or a pick-up line, or both. So we’re gunna go – I want to get Blue here some of Takahashi’s noodles before the storm gets too bad.”

“Keep him out of trouble Nick, I don’t want to arrange a jail break, again.” I laughed at the looks I got from both of them.

 

\----------------------------------------------------- 

 

 _‘I’m going to live up to your expectations Nick’_ that was the thought that had led me into this mess. It was the middle of the afternoon, and I found myself nearing the top of an old sky scraper called Trinity Tower, injured, exhausted, and almost out of supplies.

We had left Diamond city just after dawn without any fanfare. Nick had told Hancock to keep me out of trouble, and he'd only laughed and said he didn't make promises he couldn't keep. The guards gave me venomous looks as I walked out. By the last guard I couldn’t resist the urge to respond with a raised middle finger to his judging stare.

Hancock and I had headed for the old Boston Public Library, but been distracted when pipoy started chirping about a nearby radio broadcast.

I had glanced up at Hancock as the message from Rex Goodman began to repeat. “It’s unlikely he’s still alive.”

He nodded, taking along drag from his cigarette, but stayed silent.

“But no one else is going to help him.”

Another silent nod from Hancock. I had the impression he was letting me decide for myself, and judging my decision. I listened to the third play through of the message – asking for help in Trinity tower. I sighed with resignation as I made my decision. “We have to at least try to help.”

Hancock stubbed out his cigarette as he nodded, a trace of an approving smile touching his radiation damaged features. “People need help, we help ‘em. People need hurting’, we hurt ‘em. I like to keep things simple.”

Which is we wound up sitting on the second to last floor of the Trinity tower hours later. For every two or three stims we used, we found one – super mutants healed too damn fast, and didn’t seem to care much for meds. With bags far lighter than we started, I stared at Hancock with exhaustion etched on my face.

“We’ve gotta be near the top.”

He nodded. We could hear heavy foot falls above, as we crouched on a slanted piece of fallen ceiling that was acting as a ramp up to the top floor. We were both cut and bleeding from various injuries.

“Y’know, I heard someone made super mutants in a lab and released them into the wastes. I’d really like to hurt that person.” Hancock growled as he reloaded his shotgun.

I checked my gun and chuckled, “I’ll help.” The mutants preferred their nail-spiked boards, and had little in the way of ammunition, which means we were running low. We were going to need to go restock before going anywhere else.

The loudspeakers in the building crackled to life again, and a deep super mutant voice echoed through them. “If they can’t kill one puny human, they are less than nothing!” I didn’t listen to the rest of the taunts. They hadn’t gotten any more original as we’d moved upwards, killing super mutants on every floor.

Hancock held out a few chems in his hand. I bit my lip as I considered the offer – instinctively wanting to turn them down. But I was exhausted and sore and any mistake might mean my life. I snatched the pills from his hand – mentats and buffout from the look of them – and swallowed them.

We crept up the rest of ramp in what I thought was relatively silent – but apparently not enough. Hancock heard the gun spinning up beneath the bellowing laughter, and yanked me back down the ramp.

We stumbled and slid down out of range just as the minigun exploded to life, bullets slamming into the wall behind us with a rapid fire rythym.

“Son of a bitch.” I cursed a few more times as we crouched again. The gun spun down as he reloaded. I dug into my bag, and came out with our last Molotov and a fragmentation mine. Meeting Hancock’s dark eyes I saw the faint hint of concern there.

“This is what’s left.” I held out the options. My rifle hung against my side, and my pistol was loose in its holster. “Sure hope this Rex is alive.” I muttered, before adding, “I don’t think we can do this.”

“Don’t think, just act.” Hancock took the weapons, considering our options. “Give me some cover fire.”

I nodded, lifting my laser rifle. We crept along the edge, until I could just barely make out the super mutant leader. He started firing with the minigun as soon as I took a shot – the first went wide but the second struck his shoulder. It barely slowed him down.

As soon as the mutant started to reload again. Hancock armed the mine and tossed it up the ramp. Out of sight it landed somewhere up above with a clank. I risked stepping up the ramp to take a few shots at him, diving back under cover once the minigun came out again.

My heart was racing, as I waited for the damn minigun to spin down again. The instance it did, I sprang out and fired a few more bolts into the giant green mutant. Hancock sprang out beside me, tossing the Molotov. It hit home with a loud shattering crackling and I heard the mutant scream in anger and pain. He charged forwards - and right onto the mine which exploded with a deafening sound. The blast wave sent me face first into the floor. And yet, it didn't kill the mutant leader.  _Damn things are so hard to kill._

With the leader injured and distracted though, we were able to move from the stair well. I didn’t stop firing as I moved – a few shots went wide as I fired from the hip, but most hit home. Beside me Hancock’s shotgun barked and angry staccato until it was empty. The super mutant leader went down to his knees.

I dropped my rifle and pulled out my knife at the same time Hancock did, we both lunged forwards, not risking giving any time for the mutant to recover. As I drove my knife into the leaders chest, Hancock stepped behind him and slit his throat in one violently fast movement.

I leapt backwards, but not fast enough, and hot blood covered my hand, the knife, and splashed on my legs. “Ugh.” I made a noise of disgust – it smelled awful to top it off – as I grimaced, dropping the knife.

“Sorry.” A husky chuckle from Hancock as he wiped his blade off on his pant leg.

I glared at him a little with annoyance, then held out my hands. "Here let me use your coat!" 

"Don't even think about it sister." But his threat was laced with amusement.

“Hey over here! Let us out!” The voice was familiar.

“Oh good, he’d alive.” I picked up the knife with a thumb and forefinger, nose wrinkling in disgust. The super mutant leader didn’t have any real clothing to wipe it off on. “Fuck it I’ll find another.” I dropped the blade with a clatter.

“Hey over here!”

I rolled my eyes. The room was clear, there was no rush. As the buffout wore off I felt the soreness and exhaustion come back with a vengeance. Hancock was already checking the room for anything interesting. A large steamer trunk on the corner had a bunch of weapons, handful of caps, and some ammunition – which we loaded into our bags.

“Let us out!”

“Oh hold onto your panties damnit.” I shot back at the voice in the cell, earning a chuckle from Hancock. A set of keys near the steamer trunk looked promising, so I grabbed them.

“So what the hell are you doing in there huh?” I stood in front of the cell door. On the other side I could see an older man in a dirty tan suit. I assumed he was the Rex from the radio recording.

“Quickly! Get us out of here.”

“Us?” I tilted my head to look into the cell door better and saw a super mutant standing in the cell as well.

“More of my brothers will be here soon.” The super mutant growled. _More words than I usually here from a mutant._ “They know a human is attacking the tower.”

“Him too?” I looked at Rex.

“Yes, he’s harmless.” He seemed to reconsider. “Well, he’s far from harmless, but he won’t hurt us. Trust me.”

“Strong will not hurt human if human rescues Strong and Rex.”

“Huh.” I stared at the odd couple in the cell for a minute, then glanced at Hancock. His dark eyes met mine and he shrugged. “Why’s the mutant in the cage?”

“He defied his leader by standing up for me. See, I’ve given him a new purpose in life. I came here to teach these poor ignorant creatures culture.”

I missed the rest of what Rex said, because I’d looked to Hancock with disbelief at what I was hearing. He shared it, and together we tried not to laugh at the absurdity of Rex’s claims.

“I’ll let you out.” I said after I recovered. I tried the keys I’d found at the door, fumbling a few times with blood slicked hands. The door finally opened.

“This way, there’s a lift.” We followed Rex and Strong to an old lift on the side of the building. I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t just fall when we got on – but we did. I punched the button and it began to descend. As it did, we heard the shouts and calls of new super mutants filling the building.

They fired at us as we descended, and we returned fire as best we could. By the time we reached the bottom I’d been grazed a few more times, and was already growing annoyed with Rex and Strong.

Outside Trinity Tower, Rex was quick to bid us farewell. He swore he could find his way back to the radio station from which he regularly broadcast – and I was in no mood to argue with him. Strong seemed lost – his brothers had turned on him. But he seemed determined to find the ‘milk of human kindness’ and set off on his own.

Night had fallen as we stood on the street a few over from Trinity tower, letting the shadows give us some cover. A cigarette dangled from Hancock’s thin lips.

“You did damn good sister.”

Every part of my body hurt, and I was starving. My bag was almost empty. I sighed. “Made a difference to him right?”

Hancock grinned, “Damn right we did.”

I found myself returning the smile and enjoying his approval. _Nick would have approved too._ “Guess we need to restock.”

“We made it another day, musta done something right. Good Neighbor ain’t that far.” Hancock blew smoke towards the dark sky above.

“Well then lead the way Mayor.” I made a mocking salute, and fell into step beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't as proofread as others - so comments and editing are appreciated. I like how it turned out though.  
> Also I wanted to toss in Piper, as I suspect she'd be very, very interested in what's going on with the Mayor of Good neighbor and her Blue.


	11. Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long stretch of things going well, things all start to go wrong at once. Bric comes close to losing the one she has in this wasteland: her friend.

I woke up in the makeshift medical center in Sanctuary, and started to sit up.

“Hey kiddo, take it easy.” Nick’s yellow eyes shone brightly, brow furrowed with concern. He sat in one of two chairs in the small ‘room’ cordoned off with patchwork sheets.

“The sooner I can get out of this bed the better.” I muttered. “I’m fine.”

He nodded. “Doc’s going to be happy he can get headed back to Diamond city. He has been trying to leave since we got here. These old servos still have some speed in them.”

“Thank you. Yet again I owe you.” I grinned.

“I don’t keep score.” He pulled the patchwork curtain that separated the beds in our makeshift medical center closed, then sat on the side of the bed, and it creaked under the additional weight. I could tell something was on his mind, but waited for him to finally bring it up.

“So, you and John getting along?” His brows raised with the question. It had been over five weeks since I’d been in Diamond city.

Nick was the only person I knew who always called Hancock by his first name. It suddenly dawned on me. “You knew him before didn’t you?”

“I’ve been in Diamond city a long time kid.”

Right. He’d saved the last mayor’s daughter – that had to be at least twenty years ago, maybe more. That was the reason Diamond city let him stay despite their hatred for synths.

“So you were there for the Purge?”

He nodded. “Those were some dark times in Diamond City.” He sighed. “But you my dear are changing the subject.”

A half grin flashed across my lips. “Caught me red handed detective.” My hand fell to the bandaged cut across the side of my torso. Radscorpion venom was no joke, even with just a scratch. Four of them had burrowed up under the center of Sanctuary in the night. I remembered the fight, and narrowly missing the stabbing motion of one of the beasts large stingers, only to find it had drawn a long slice along my side. It had burned, a sensation which spread upwards. My fingers still tingled, as I flexed them, considering my close call.

Nick had a look of concern etched across his features. “What aren’t you telling me Nick? Something’s bothering you.”

His brows furrowed deeply. “I told you on the way to Good Neighbor – John’s a dangerous man, but he has a good heart.” He seemed to consider his words carefully. “Chem addicts don’t get high for fun Bric, despite what they say. Just be careful. Wouldn’t want to see you get hurt kiddo.”

I reached out and placed my hand down atop his – not the synthflesh covered one, but the exposed metal joints and tiny screws of his left hand. Wrapping my fingers around the cool metal I squeezed it. “We’re all dangerous here Nick. We’re all a little broken. But he’s a good friend. You and he are the best friends I’ve got out here.”

Nick nodded, but still had a shadow of concern on his features. He looked about to say something further, when the makeshift privacy curtain parted. Hancock held a smoke in one hand and bottle of Nuka cola in the other. “You were supposed to come get me if she woke up Nick.” He chastised him with good humor. “How ya feelin’ doll?” Hancock sat down in the spare chair at the side of it.

“It’s only been a few minutes. I was going to come get you.” Nick leaned back, sliding his hand free of mine.

“How long was I out?” I continued to flex my tingling fingers, frowning at them.

“Almost three days.” Hancock said, sipping his drink. His jacket was over the back of the chair, and the long white sleeves beneath the blue and gold vest were rolled up to his elbows.

“Doc had an experimental antivenom he’d been working on. You were lucky it was only a partial dose of venom you received.” Nick said, lighting up a cigarette. I continued to wonder how a synthetic person could effectively smoke, but it was a habit of his.

“Wait…” I let my mind wander through the memories, made hazy by the venom. They were both slightly morose. “Marcy. I saw Marcy go down.”

Nick and Hancock shared a glance. Hancock nodded. “Marcy didn’t make it.”

A gasp escaped my lips and I choked back a sob. “Jun…god I’m so sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault doll.”

“Nothing you could have done Bric. She was down before the defenses even realized they were in the town.” Nick patted my hand as he spoke. “The Commonwealth is a dangerous place.”

Despite their assurances, I felt a sharp stab of survivors guilt in my gut. The fact that I hadn’t much liked Marcy, and wasn’t as upset as maybe I should over her death made me feel more guilty. Sanctuary was supposed to be safe, to be a home.Yet one of our own settlers had died within its walls. _Maybe if I’d been faster…_

“Hey.” Hancock’s low gravelly voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “You can’t win them all Bricelyn.”

“I know but…Marcy…she’d been with Preston since I first met them all. And to a damn radscorpion? Preston wanted more turrets I just…”

“Hey.” Another interruption to my train of thought. “It wasn’t your fault.”

My eyes lifted and found Hancock’s black depths. “But..”

“No. You weren’t the only one there. Don’t beat yourself up over it doll. That path doesn’t lead anywhere good.” _And I oughta know,_ his eyes said.

I chewed on my lower lip as I nodded. I glanced at Nick, and found him watching our interaction with interest.

 -------------------------------------------------------

 

It was almost a month before I was back out in the Wastelands, and anxious to get back to helping people. I liked Sanctuary well enough, but the growing politics – disputes between settlers and arguments over how the town was growing – made me look forward to the relative simplicity of shooting things. It had taken almost a week for the last side effects of the radscorpion venom to fade. The rest of the month I spent building more turrets and defenses for Sanctuary. This time I made sure to set some up within the towns growing walls and boundaries for anything that might burrow up from below.

I found myself more excited than I should be to be setting out again, a bag heavy with supplies on my shoulder, and newly upgraded weapons strapped across my armor. _I understand why Hancock wanted to take a walk now._

“Musta been nice being able to hop on a plane and get away from it all. Huh, you think that’s why they call the drug jet?” Hancock mused as he kicked over an old piece of luggage amongst the ruins of the crashed plane. We had checked in at Tenpines bluff and Outpost Zimonja – ensuring their defenses and making sure they didn’t need any help. Zimonja in particular had grown – as I had helped the Railroad set up a safe house for synths there. Preston didn’t need to know that, though. The small settlements had grown to a handful of settlers, and their defenses were getting better. We had stumbled onto the ruins of a plane crash when we swung south.

“Maybe? And it was nice. Could hop on a plane and be anywhere in the world in a few hours, maybe a day at the longest.”

Hancock looked at me with interest. “You do it often?”

We’d cleared a handful of raiders from the area, and were poking through the debris for anything worth keeping. “Nah, it always was a bit expensive. Last I flew was from California to here, when I moved back.” I picked the lock on another suitcase, finding a few bobby pins and decaying cloths. “I always wanted to travel more – getting to London and Berlin were on my bucket list. Has there ever been any news from Europe?”

Hancock shook his head, “Nah, not as far as I’ve ever heard. What’s a bucket list?”

“Bunch of things you want to do before you die – y’know, kick the bucket.” My voice sounded a bit hollow as it echoed in the shell of the plane as I walked further into it.

“Is the first thing on that list ‘don’t die’?”

I laughed. “So if you could hop a plane to anywhere, where would you go?”

Hancock shrugged, taking a drag on his smoke as he considered his response. “I ain’t real familiar with the rest of the world. We don’t exactly get geography lessons anymore. But if all the women in Ireland are like Cait, think I’d like to go there.”

I rolled my eyes with a partial grin. His response shouldn’t have surprised me in the least. “Oh hey –“ beneath a pile of luggage I spotted a large compartment. I bent down and started working on the complex lock, cursing as I broke a three bobby pins before it gave way with a click. I glanced over my shoulder to find Hancock watching me, cigarette in one hand.

“Planning on helping?”

“Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” He smirked, tossing aside his smoke before walking forward. “Besides, you’re the one that knows her way around a bobby pin.”

I turned from him to tug on the compartment door – and hide the blush that brightened my cheeks. It took a few times before it gave with an ear-splitting rusty squeal. Inside was a large sum of pre-war money, good now only as scrap cloth, and a load of weapons and ammunition. “Jackpot!” We took the best weapons and all of the ammo. There wasn’t much else – it’d been well picked over by scavengers.

A rad storm blew in early afternoon – the worst time, since by the time it cleared out there wouldn’t be many hours before nightfall. We headed east, our next goal being a visit to the Slog before heading to Nahant for the sheriff’s department. To Preston’s chagrin, I wasn’t planning on returning to Sanctuary until I’d finished helping Nick with the Eddie Winters case.

We found a ruined house that looked about ready to collapse, but it had a stone cellar that was protected enough from the pending storm. The idea of an afternoon and evening spent doing nothing was actually fairly appealing.

I stuck my bookmark in my page at the end of a chapter. A few hours had passed, and the storm was dying down. My pipboy sat up on the shelf tuned to the classic radio station out of Diamond city, near one of a few lanterns we’d set up. Hancock had returned 20,000 Leagues under the sea and taken my next reading suggestion. In was our own little book club, and the way most rad storms were spent – shoulder to shoulder in a basement reading. Frequently it included liquor, if we’d found any while scavenging.

I stretched a little, grabbing for my can of water and taking a sip. I twisted so I was facing Hancock. “Hey John?”

Hancock held up a finger – meaning one minute as he reached the end of a paragraph, then glanced up. There was a hint of interest in his raised brow – it was the first time I’d called him by his first name. He didn’t correct me, so I took it as permission. It felt more normal to say.

“Are we doing ok?”

“Well it ain’t often wandering off with a stranger turns out this well for me.” He marked his page and closed his book – recognizing I felt like chatting.

“So you have a habit of wandering off with stranger huh?” I smiled playfully.

“When the mood strikes me.” John’s battle worn and scarred hands went to his coat pocket for his mentats tin, then he seemed to reconsider and they came away empty. He reached for his water took a sip. “And I got lucky, since you know how to hold your own. I had my doubts when we first hit the road.”

“And you weren’t really wrong given how we started.” I drew my leg up to my chest, setting my chin on my knee and watched him.

He laughed, “You looked like you’d fallen out of the vault the day you showed up with Nick. I thought I’d see you pickin’ your teeth out of the gutter by sun up – even with Valentine to help you out.”

I faked a pout which dissolved into a grin. “No faith at all, geez. At least I had ditched the vault jumpsuit.”

John’s dark eyes glittered with amusement. “That was a smart decision. That suit screams easy target.” His fingers twitched with nothing in them, and he went digging for a cigarette in his jacket. “It’s just real rare these days to find someone who’s not just willing to take what they’re handed to them. Too many good folks not willing to get their hands dirty, and too many assholes willing to take advantage of it.”

“I think you just summarized the entire Commonwealth in one sentence.” I sighed, brow furrowing in thought. “I think it’s always been that way though – we just had some societal safeguards in place that kept the worst of it under control. With those gone, everyone is too busy living in fear to help anyone else out.”

“Look at what happened in Diamond City. Before McDonough took over it was a half-decent place to live. A little stricter than what I usually go for, but not terrible.” Hancock lit up the cigarette he’s pulled out and took a drag.

“What happened?” I knew they were brothers, and that Diamond city didn’t allow ghouls, but I’d never heard the entire story.

John shrugged. “I thought he and I had a pretty happy childhood. But then he decides he’s gonna get elected with his anti-ghoul crusade – ‘Mankind for McDonough.’ Before you know it, he’s got families with kids lining up to drag folks they called ‘neighbors’ out of their homes and throw ‘em to the ruins.”

“That’s awful. I can’t even…I can’t imagine it. Were there ever any signs, growing up?” I tried to imagine my sister decided to kick an entire group of people out to their deaths.

“Nah, guy was the standard big brother – entitled, punchy, liked to shove rotten tatoes down my shirt and slap my back. I never thought he’d be capable of something like what he did to those ghouls.” There was a darkness that clouded Hancock’s features as he spoke – a mix of sorrow, regret, and anger.

“How could they?” I sighed. “I guess it’s true though, that those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” I thought of the civil war in particular, and shook my head.

“There was always a pretty big gulf between folks in the stands and folks livin’ down on the field. McDonough ran on it because he thought enough of those upper stands assholes would vote for him. Guess he was right.” Hancock had gone through the cigarette in record time, a marker of his annoyance with his brother and their history.

“Some things don’t change. People are always trying to put themselves above someone else so they can look down and judge.” I’d always been cynical, and the post-apocalyptic world had given me more reasons to remain a cynic.

“I remember storming into the stands after his inauguration speech. He was just standing there, staring out the window, watching as the city turned on the ghouls. He didn’t even look at me, just said ‘I did it John, it’s finally mine.’ I should have killed him right there but I don’t think it would have changed anything. Instead I pleaded with him, begged him to call it off. He said he couldn’t. He had nothing against the ghouls, it was the will of the people. And he couldn’t betray the voters. Then he smiled. That hideous mile-long fucking smile. He never smiled like that when we were kids. I didn’t even recognize him.” Once started, the words kept tumbling out from John, who otherwise tended to keep his background private.

“He murdered those people.” I said quietly. “There’s no other word – it’s murder.”

“Him and the whole damn city.” Hancock’s dark eyes glittered with curiosity, brow arched to match. “Why do you do that?”

“Hm? Do what?” I sat up, stretching my legs out.

“You rarely use the term ghouls.” There was probing interest in his voice.

“I…just don’t like it.” I shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s … ‘othering’ – radiation doesn’t make you less human.”

Hancock couldn’t keep the pleased smile from his features. “You’re a strange one sister, and I like it.”

I returned his smile. “You ain’t exactly normal mister clothing-spoke-to-me.” We both laughed. “What’d you do after your brother decided to fly his asshole flag proudly?”

“I just needed to get the hell away from him and the whole damn city. I still wasn’t a ghoul at that point, so I didn’t have to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay in that cesspool. I’d been sneakin’ off to Good Neighbor for years to get decent chems, so I knew all the safe routes. I managed to track down a few of the families, led ‘em there, but most couldn’t get used to the Good Neighbor lifestyle. I brought them food for a couple of weeks, but after a while they just disappeared. Those folks in Diamond city signed their death warrants and all the good people were willing to just sit by and watch.” His voice took a hard angry turn, edged with regret and guilt. “I felt like I was the only one who saw how screwed up things truly were, who couldn’t just pretend things were fine.”

“Not anymore.” I slid back over to sit next to him, reaching out to slide my hand atop his. “You did what you could John. A smart man told me not I can’t win them all, and not to beat myself up over things when I did my best.” I offered a sympathetic smile as I recited his own words to him, and squeezed his hand. I saw the surprise in dark eyes, and a measure of relief.

“Bricelyn, I know I run my mouth, but having someone who sees the world for what it is and is willing to do something about it, that’s meant a lot to me.” John stared down at my hand stop his – even in the pale lantern light the contract of my skin against his was glaring. He squeezed my finger between his thumb and side of his finger, his voice quiet. “I feel damn lucky to have you as a friend.”

I slid my thumb idly back and forth across the scarred skin of his knuckles, feeling for the first time like I was actually building a life in the Commonwealth. “Likewise John.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

I jerked awake, causing the book in my lap to slid off onto the floor. My neck was stiff, and I realized with a faint blush it was from falling asleep on John’s shoulder. With a muttered curse I grabbed the book and tried to find my page as I sat up. My movements woke up John, a perpetually light sleeper.

I leaned up to grab my pipboy from the shelf, its pale green light telling me it was an hour before dawn. I showed him the readout, as I yawned and couldn’t speak.

“We can probably get going.” John stretched, and started packing his bag. I went to do the same, and swore under my breath at the crick in my neck.

“You ok?” John’s husky voice was laced with concern.

I shrugged, wincing from the movement, and trying to rub my left shoulder with my right hand. “Slept funny s’all.” _Your shoulder wasn’t the best pillow._

“Here, turn around.”

I did as told, and felt his hands on my neck. His rough fingertips found the knot in my shoulder with practiced ease and started to work it out. Little noises of relaxed pleasure escaped my lips. “You could have been a masseuse, in another life anyways.” After a beat I added a heartfelt “Thank you.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “I might as well have been in Diamond City. Women never turn down a massage. Or, they never used to anyways.”

“Their loss.” I let him continue to work all the stiffness from my neck and shoulders, amazed that anyone would turn down a massage because of a few scars. He kneaded with just the right amount of pressure. I imagined how much I’d have paid for a shoulder massage of this caliber before the war and chuckled.

The day was bright and warm. On our way east, we saw a thin spiral of smoke lazily snaking up to the sky, joining the faint trails of clouds in an otherwise clear sky.

“Y’know, not a lot of folks would travel with a ghoul, even one with my kinda charisma.” Hancock remarked, replacing his tin of mentats.

“And a lot of people are assholes.” I countered, feeling bright eyed after getting a full nights sleep – which was unusual when traveling the Wastelands.

John laughed, “Can’t disagree with that.”

Feeling impish, I suddenly snatched his hat off his head, and dashed forwards a few paces. I swapped it for my own militia hat, spun around to face him with a grin, and continued to walk backwards. “I gotta get me one of these. And a jacket. I always kinda wanted to be a pirate.”

“Normally touching the Mayor’s hat is an automatic death sentence.” Dark eyes glittered with laughter as he tried to sound serious. With a flash of movement he snatched his hat back, forcing me to spin around back to facing forward. “But I’ll make an exception.”

“I bet all the girls try to steal that coat.” We continued at an easy pace across the rolling wastelands.

“They sure try. Can’t have it though. Sexy pirate was always gunna be my fallback is sexy mayor didn’t pan out.”

I laughed. “I assumed you were going for both.”

We continued a friendly banter, relaxed and comfortable, as we walked. It felt strangely normal. I was struck by how Hancock reminded me of a childhood friend. Matt had grown up to be a lawyer for a nonprofit legal justice organization – he’d always wanted to help the little guy. He was how I’d become friends with my neighbor Nora. _I miss my them all. But I think I’m doing ok here._

Then we found the first body.

The settler was on the road, face down in the dirt. Patched and dirt stained clothing was further stained with blood from multiple stab wounds – more than I could count. At least from the look of him, he was dead before the radstorm came through.

The second settler wasn’t so lucky. Her skin was burned from radiation, stretched and pulled tight against her muscles. _At least the radiation killed her._ The cuts were shallow – bleeders that meant she had been dying a slow death, as every step she took let more of her life’s force drain away.

“These ain’t combat injuries.” John growled, echoing my thoughts. We both looked to the horizon, where the thin plume of smoke had been an hour before but since dissipated.

“I’ve got a real bad feeling about this.”

The third body was the same as the second. They’d been running from someplace, with no supplies or weapons to speak of. I could make out the blood trails on the ground now, still discernable against the mud and bits of old pavement. _Torture, these settlers were tortured then told to run like some sort of sick game._ The fourth body had lived longer through the radstorm. He lay in a pool of dried blood-filled vomit, skin peeling and flaking off. I was feeling sick, a pit of anger and disgust twisting in my gut.

We came upon a fifth body, now much closer to the Greentop Nursery. It was a newer Minute men settlement, but it had defenses. _Didn’t do them much good did it?_ I bent down to inspect the body, only to have her cough and wretch, eyes flying wide open with fear the physical contact.

“No stop please! No more!”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. We’re with the Minute men.” I tried to put as much sympathy and reassurance into my words as I could. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, along with most of the rest of her. A few radiation burns told me she’d only been out at the tail end of the storm. How she’d survived the night I had no idea.

“Please no, no no.” She moaned, twisting and bucking against imagined threats. The motions split open cuts and stabs anew, sending fresh blood dripping.

“Hey, hold still.” I pushed down on her shoulder as gently as I could. “It’s ok.”

The settlers wild eyes finally found mine and she let out a sigh and slumped. “Raiders…they…wanted the farm.”

“Just try to breathe.” I was inspecting her injuries, and they weren’t good. Hancock knelt on her other side, brow line wrinkled with concern. Our eyes met, and he gave a little shake of his head that said ‘ _She ain’t gunna make it sister._

The settlers breathing was raspy and uneven, one eye was blood shot through, and I was fairly sure her nose was broken.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Raiders. Power suits. Big guns. Rounded up the survivors. Wanted to…play…with…us…” Her voice trailed as her eyes went wide with horror at memories of torture. Her body tensed with the fear, muscles tightly contracted. “No, no no no stop please.” The plea was panicked and a jumble of words. She tried to stand up, bucking against my restraint, as though she might run away.

“Calm down!” But it was useless. With a sudden intake of air she collapsed back to the ground, all the tension draining from her broken body. Her breathing was raspy and rattling, uneven gasps shaking her chest. “Hey stay with us!” There was blood on her lips, forming bloody bubbles with saliva from her stuttered breathing. A few more rasp breaths shook her form, and she lay still.

“Those ain’t raiders, they’re Gunners. With a leader who likes torture.” Hancock’s voice was harsh with angry and the promise of violence as he reached out and closed the settlers eyes.

“They’ll die all the same.” I growled as I stood, trying to ignore the flecks of the dead woman’s blood on my clothes. _First Marcy, now an entire settlement?_ _Will we ever get ahead?_ I tried to shove a rush of doubt back down, it wasn’t going to help.

“We might need back up.” Hancock stood, athletic form already tense with the excitement of pending combat.

“No time. We can send up a flare though when we’re there, hope someone sees it.”

He nodded. “Then let’s go.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

From behind the wrecked car, we both sighted down our rifles. Hancock preferred his shot gun, but we’d started packing more weapons for times like this. With sights lined up, I heard his gruff count to sync up our shots and maximize our chances of remaining hidden.

“3, 2, 1.” We both squeezed the trigger. Two gunners dropped instantly from along the farm’s fence line. Shouts and yelling went up from around the walls. I guessed over a dozen gunners, maybe more, were just out of our sights. The walls we’d put around the farm had been great for defenses – and I was seeing why now.

We pulled back, concealed by the rusted out hulk of a vehicle, and waited. The angry voices and pounding foot steps evened out as the gunners tried to figure out where the shots had come from. “Go find them!” I heard someone yell, sending a patrol out to circle the farmers perimeter. It meant we had less time to get our second shots off before we were discovered.

I leaned back out and hurried to line up a shot but my hands were shaking with stress. Forcing myself to take a few deep breathes, I looked for another target. I heard Hancock’s count down again, and squeezed the trigger in sync with his. My first shot missed though the second hit, but the gunner was left standing.

We ducked behind the car again, and waited for the patrol to come to us. I slid my newly-acquired sword from its sheath – it saved on bullets and gave me a back up when things got too close. I could hear the heavy footfalls of running people, as they came around the car guns firing. I lunged in low, sweeping out one gunners feet and following him to the ground with the sword. Hancock dispatched of another gunner, leaving the third to face us both. He fired haphazardly as he backed away – I felt the stinging graze of a few near misses as I moved int. Hancock circled behind him, and as the gunner stepped back from my swing, his eyes widened as Hancock’s blade slammed into his back.

“Only another dozen or so to go.” I said as I licked my lips, heart pounding in my chest.

“I love a little combat in the morning – good thing the Commonwealth provides.” Hancock’s low voice was a growl of adrenaline and jet fueled excitement.

We made the dash to the partial wall that surrounded the settlement, and crept towards the entrance. A new team of gunners stepped out, following up on the patrol, and we dispatched them with ease. Keeping low we made our way into the settlement.

“I’m betting they’re keeping any settlers left in the greenhouse. It’s just down the hill.” I whispered as we crept around the main building which had sleeping spaces and a small kitchen. I could hear gunners inside. I locked eyes with Hancock, and we moved into the building at the same time. Our guns barked an angry staccato, and two gunners were down by the time the rest had raised their weapons to take sight.

“Get down!” I heard Hancock and reacted instinctively, ducked just as a molotov flew over my head and smashed against the wall. I heard an angry growl, and a muttered “Oh I’m feral now!” as Hancock took out another gunner, and I couldn’t help but grin as I brought up my .44 and shot at the last gunner.

Just as we cleared the building and I was beginning to think we might make it out with only minor cuts and bruises, the entire building shook with the force of an explosion.

“What the fuck was that?” I could hear more shouting, yelling, and the humming of an engine, which was all drowned out in a moment by the constant thudding of a large minigun.

“Fucking Brotherhood.” Hancock spat.

While I wasn’t on friendly terms with the Brotherhood of steel, I also wasn’t about to start a war with them. But we were caught in the crossfire of a Brotherhood patrol and the Gunners – bad news for us.

“Let’s get the settlers and get out of here then.” We peaked out the door of the building, and saw Gunners racing to deal with the Brotherhood. I could only hope the powersuit wearing Gunners we’d been warned of would be distracted, giving us time to cross the open slope to the greenhouse.

“C’mon!” I made a break for it, Hancock easily keeping pace beside me. Only a few shots rang out in our direction, smacking into the ground harmlessly. Looking at the greenhouse, I tripped over a body and went sprawling with some cursing. Scrambling to my feet, I ducked inside the greenhouse without looking as the vertibird strafed the hill, picking off the two gunners who had tried to follow us.

I almost walked right into Hancock, who pulled up short.

“Brice you don’t wanna look.” He turned around, and tried to make me turn and head out the door.

“What? No –“ I pushed past him, and saw the slaughter. The rest of the settlers were dead – and it hadn’t been quick. There was blood everywhere. Limbs were strewn about from a few dismembered settlers, while others had been chained so they dangled from the ceiling while stabbed over and over. _It’s like Pickmans gallery all over._ My stomach flipped, and I gagged, struggling not to throw up for a moment. _“_ Fucking hell.” I muttered, between my fingers as I held my hand over my mouth. To make matters worse was the smell – the greenhouses heat from only a few hours of sunlight had begun the decomposition process.

“Brice we need go.” Hancock’s voice broke my train of thought. “We don’t want to join them.”

“We were too late.” I choked back a sob, but my eyes flooded with tears. “Damnit, I was too late, again.” I saw only red and tasted bile. I shook with anger and sorrow in a mix that was becoming uncomfortably familiar.

“Brice –“ A huge explosion sounded from up the hill, and we both spun to look out the greenhouse door. We saw the wing of the crashed vertibird as it flew towards us, the rest of the aircraft having landed in the farmhouse we’d cleared. The wing slammed into the greenhouse, shattering it.

Hancock knocked me to the ground, taking the brunt of the falling glass shards. I hit my head, hard, and the world went momentarily black.

Disoriented I tried to sit up, but struggled against a heavy weight on my back. I twisted and wriggled and freed myself and crawled a few paces away from the wreckage, before turning back to it. The world spun, and slowly came to a stop, though everything sounded as though I were under water. Looking around I saw the smoldering ruins of the greenhouse, and remembered the vertibirds wing as it soared towards us.

“John!” There was red beneath the metal wing, where I had been. Shock sent adrenaline coursing through me as I realized the weight atop me had been Hancock, and I reached for him. _He protected me from the worst of it._

I shook his shoulder but he didn’t move. My hand came away bloody. _His coat isn’t that dark._ Dozens upon dozens of glass shards were embedded in his back. I tried to pull his unconscious form free of the wreckage but only succeeded in moving in a little.

 _My bag, where is my goddamn bag?_ I looked around for any sign of our supplies – and was rewarded with one bag, blown free of the ruined greenhouse. Supplies were strewn across the area, and I started gathering them up – looking for the chems.

The thought of Gunners still in the area didn’t even cross my mind, my focus solely on Hancock. The first stims I found were cracked and damaged, but one had survived the blast – it was all I needed, I hoped, and I hurried back to his side. I jammed the stim into his shoulder, depressing the plunger, and waited. _The glass you idiot._ I tried to pick the shards out – cutting my fingers in my hurry.

I shook his shoulder again. “Hancock c’mon, we need to go.” But there was nothing. His jacket was soaked through with blood. _Goddamnit._ I dug through the bag, finding a cracked open bottle of buffout and I popped one immediately. With renewed strength I managed to shove the wing aside a little – it groaned with protest and for a moment I was struck with fear that it would collapse along with the part of the greenhouse it a was keeping up.

But the metallic groaning stopped, and it was enough to free Hancock’s inert form from the debris. It took a few tries. My hands were wet with blood, both his and mine, and I couldn’t get a grip. I collapsed into a seat beside him, digging in the bag desperate for one more stim. But there weren’t any.

Hot tears were spilling down my cheeks. “Damnit John, not like this. I can’t do this without you.” _First Marcy, now John, and an entire settlement – all dead. I failed. If this is life in the wasteland maybe it would have been better if I died in the vault._

Up on the hill I heard voices. _Gunners._ I reached for my weapons, but found only the .44 pistol.

“Yeah boss, I saw them go down to the greenhouse.” One voice said.

“Probably hoping to save those settlers.” A deep rumbling chuckle came from the second one, full of malice and amusement. “Stupid move on their part.” More laughter.

I licked my lips slowly. _He’s gotta be the one. The one that likes to torture._ I stood up slowly, reloading my pistol and holding it securely with both hands. A cold stone of acceptance filled my gut. _If this is how it ends then I’m taking that fucking bastard with me._ I faced the hill and waited.

The two gunners – the leader and a soldier – came down the hill, eyes on me. The boss only smirked, so confident in himself. He was a large powerfully built man, wearing a mix of combat armor over fatigues. He was so sure one lone woman couldn’t threaten him. He laughed as he came to a stop a few feet away from me. His soldier held his gun low, staying back a step. The soldier trembled with adrenaline and drugs.

“Well well well, what have we here?” The Boss’s gaze was lecherous, and it left me feeling dirty – something the blood, oil, and dirt I was covered in hadn’t even done. “One lone hero and her pet ghoul? Did you rescue your little friends?” He sneered at me, posturing in what was supposed to be an intimidating manner.

“You killed them all.” I said quietly in a monotone. If I’d been new to the wastelands, I might have been scared of him. But I only saw a bully, making himself feel better by putting everyone else down. I was unmoved, and met his gaze with a dead-eyed stare.

He laughed, proud of his work. “I love the sound of screaming in the morning. And they wouldn’t tell me the combination to their little safe – the only thing with any value ‘round here.” He wandered his filthy gaze down my blood stained figure and back up. “You I’m going to make scream in whole new ways.”

I stared at him. s if in a slow-motion haze I simply raised my gun to his face and pulled the trigger. I felt nothing, driven beyond feeling. He needed to be dead. Now. The .44 was a powerful little weapon, one I’d modified myself. One I’d pried from the dead hands of the Institute’s own contract killer Conrad Kellogg. Its shot was deafening in the post-combat silence.

The gunner boss’s head was simply there one moment, and gone the next. I did however see the surprise in his eyes as he realized what was happening – that I wasn’t about to chat or surrender or beg for mercy. That he couldn’t scare someone with nothing left to lose. _You’re not the only cold blooded killer around here._

His body hit the ground with a dull thud. I stared at the headless corpse, blinking a few times. _Once upon a time shooting someone in the face would have shocked, disgusted, and horrified you Bricelyn, what happened to that girl?_

The Gunner soldier was staring open mouthed at me. Still holding the gun it was easy to slide the sights over to the soldier, staring at him through the small targeting circle.

He dropped his gun, throwing up his trembling hands. “Please lady! Please don’t shoot! I didn’t have nothin’ to do with any of that I swear! I just joined up. Please! I don’t wanna die!” He was rambling and shaking.

 _He’s like fifteen years old._ I realized, as the crosshairs danced across his head. _“Bric you can’t shoot an unarmed person! That isn’t right! Damnit we have to be better than they are!”_ I heard Nick’s voice in my head, from our fight after I dispatched Sinjin’s guards. _‘If you kill them you’re no better than a damn raider. I thought you were better than that.’_

I lowered the gun as sorrow rushed over me, washing away the desire to kill. “Get out of here kid, go make something of your life.” To my own ears my voice was harsh and scratchy.

“Oh thank you! Thankyouthankyou I will!” He sprinted away, not risking that I’d change my mind. _Deathclaw’ll probably get him without that gun._ I watched until he disappeared from sight. As soon as he did my legs buckled, and I sank to my knees. The buffout wore off, and the pain swept me under. Burying my face in my hands I sobbed – loud, messy, ugly sobs that drained what energy I had left and left me gasping for breath.

Some tiny rational piece of my mind was getting nervous. This much noise, this many dead bodies, was sure to bring in scavengers and predators alike. _I should get moving._ If not yao guai, it’d be an army of bloatflies, and I didn’t think I had much ammo left. _What’s the point?_ The thought of trying to make it back to Sanctuary with what little I had left and alone was more depressing.

The once-bustling settlement was now eerily quiet. The crackling pops of many small fires burning themselves out was punctuated by the groaning of heated metal. I was alone, with my thoughts. My thoughts drifted to the morning – laughing as I stole John’s hat and the bemused smirk on his features. He’d told a terrible joke _“so a ghoul walks into a bar…”_ as we walked and found my eye rolling hilarious. I fought to keep the memory of blood and glass from invading the better ones.

Swallowing hard, I wiped uselessly at my tears – only succeeding in making a bloody teary mess of my cheeks. I tried to wipe my hands on my pants, but it wasn’t much better. The rational part of my brain noted my fingers were bleeding from removing the glass, and I should probably tend to them. _Should get moving to, traveling in the dark alone is an even worse idea._ But I was too exhausted to move.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You ain’t gunna get rid of me that easily.”

My heart about leapt out of my chest, and it pulled me up with it. I whipped around, to see Hancock standing in front of the greenhouse wreckage, one arm clutched tightly to his chest. His white shirt was soaked through and as red as his jacket, and a gash across his forehead had dripping blood down the lines of his scars. It would have made him look terrifying, if I wasn’t thrilled to see him alive.

I leapt forwards, throwing my arms around his neck. “John!”

“Ow, hey, easy there doll. I’m normally a fan of the rough stuff, but I might need a few days first.” His voice was huskier than usual and strained with pain.

I let go, laughing through tears and taking a half step back. “Sorry! I just, I thought you were –“

“I know.” He cut me off. “I just thought it seemed like a good time for a nap. Real peaceful like.” His trademark playful smirk appeared on thin lips.

“Damnit John.” I hugged him again – this time carefully. His good arm slipped around my waist and squeezed me back. “The thought of doing this on my own…”

“S’alright doll. Besides, I still intend to cash in on those favors you owe me.” He stepped back, flashing me a smile. “C’mon, we better grab what we can and get out of here.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. I like how this came out. Also I had a sick day and did nothing but write all day...so I can now confidently say this story is about 22 chapters and 55k+ words. I'll update the description eventually with those details.
> 
> Also I seriously considered chapter breaking right before Hancock returns from the presumed-dead. But I decided I am not that mean. You know that'd be a commercial break on a tv-show.


	12. Putting the past to rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric fetches Hancock from Good Neighbor, and together they help Nick deal with Eddie Winters once and for all.

It had taken me almost six months to track down the rest of the Eddie Winters tapes. They were scattered across the Commonwealth, and just getting to each location had taken time. Combined with the number of jobs Preston kept requesting my help with, and the number of people who simply needed help and I couldn’t pass them by, and time slipped by quickly.

My last distraction had been MacCready. He’d asked for my help dealing with his former Gunner leaders at the old Mass pike interchange. Hancock had needed to return to Good Neighbor, having received a message from Fahrenheit that there were issues the Mayor needed to attend to.

So after the pleasure of removing a few more gunners from the world, and taking their power armor for use in Sanctuary, MacCready and I had headed east to Good Neighbor. I’d peppered him with questions about the Capital Wasteland along the way, and further cemented a friendship with the young merc. I thought of the gunner I’d let go, and hoped that boy would wind up like MacCready – it was a nice thought.

It’s been almost two weeks since Hancock and I had split up. It was unusual – since the massacre at Greentop we’d been inseparable. Preston was annoyed – he continually tried to get me to take someone else along. But I didn’t want to train someone new. John and I had learn each other’s quirks, making us more deadly in combat as a team. The feeling that I was fighting a losing battle trying to help the Commonwealth didn’t nag me with a friend at my side. I left dealing with settlers to Preston, and had headed out with Cait and Nick at their personal requests, but given the choice, I always picked Hancock. _The fact I can’t shake how much the thought of losing him hurt has nothing to do with it. It’s strategy._

With the last two holotapes in my bag, MacCready and I stepped into Good Neighbor and headed for the Old State House that acted as the mayor’s office. Inside a guard in the typical fedora and tan suit of the Good Neighbor crew blocked our way.

“Mayor’s in a meetin’” The guard drawled. “He ain’t to be disturbed.” He gave me a once over, and I saw the recognition in his eyes. “Even for you, miss.” He tipped his hat to me with a grin.

Upstairs I could hear loud voices – muffled by the distance I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone said it wasn’t anything happy.

“Hey, we uh, heard about that Massacre up at Greentop.” The guard lowered his voice, which was heavy with admiration and sympathy. “Heard you helped out our illustrious mayor. And you oughta know that in Good Neighbor, we protect our own.” He gave me a solemn nod. “Always got a home ‘ere.”

I swallowed down the mix of emotions that threatened to spring up at his words. I also wondered what exactly those rumors were saying about me. I settled for a nod in return and a mumbled “Thank you.”

MacCready gave me a sideways glance and said “At least one of us has reputation that gets recognized.”

The guard laughed, “Maybe if you could hit the broad side of a barn merc.”

MacCready grinned, “Don’t make me show you just how good a shot I am.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a show.” Fahrenheit chimed in as she came down the stairs, a teasing smirk touching her normally somber features. The red headed mercenary was a staple in Good neighbor. I had gotten little of her story from Hancock –she’d been left for dead on the town’s door step, and demonstrated both her skills and loyalty, earning herself a close friendship. In his words, she was like a sister to him. She was a closed book, and probably the only woman in town Hancock hadn’t slept with. And if I wanted to know more I had to go talk to her. _One of these days I will._

“C’mon now Fahrenheit, a little support for your fellow merc.” MacCready laughed.

“Mayor ought’a be done soon.” Fahrenheit said to me.

I nodded, “No real rush. Wasn’t planning on heading out until tomorrow anyways.”

MacCready nodded. “Same, I want to spend a little time in the Third Rail.” His brow arched with insinuations.

“So Magnolia can turn you down again?” Fahrenheit was grinning around the cigarette that dangled from her plump lips as she lit up. The guard laughed, and so did I.

MacCready’s youthful featured blushed brightly. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’.” He took all the ribbing in good fun – something I liked about him.

Upstairs the voices had grown louder, and were punctuated by the loud bark of a shotgun.

“Guess he’s done.” Fahrenheit said dryly. “You two can go on up.”

Hancock was pacing the room, the one which led out onto a small balcony in the center of town. He was puffing on a cigarette. A few empty jet inhalers and an empty vial of med-x were on the table. In front of the table face-down was his last appointment, blood pooling under the still-warm body. From his attire he was a street thug – and much like Finn the first time I walked into Good Neighbor, he’d probably gotten an attitude.

I hadn’t figured out how Hancock could still be Mayor when he only stopped by every few months – but somehow it worked. _Only in Good Neighbor._ Though recently, there had been more trouble makers in town, trying to push people around.

“Hey how’s the coolest ghoul in the Commonwealth?” MacCready said cheerfully, stepping over the body without missing a beat.

Hancock shot him a grin. “Feelin’ good brother. Had to make a mayoral statement about my friend here. You deal with those gunner assholes?”

MacCready nodded. “Sure as hell did.”

“I’d say they learned their lesson, but well, they’re dead.” Hancock chuckled, grinding out his cigarette butt and reaching for another one. It was a stress marker – he went through them when something was on his mind, or he was high.

MacCready joined him in laughter before adding, “I couldn’t have done it without Bric.”

I shrugged, and stepped around the body instead of over it. “I try.”

“She’s pretty indispensable.” Dark olive eyes met mine, and flitted away.

“Hey Mac why don’t you go grab a drink on me? Any failed flirting attempts that follow that drink though, not my fault.” I flashed him a grin.

He nodded. “I was planning on it, just wanted to say hey. I’ll see you two back in Sanctuary – be sure to tell that old bucket o’ bolts Nick I said hi.”

“Be careful on the way back MacCready.”

“Always am.”

Once MacCready left, I crossed the room to Hancock. He’d resumed pacing, and I stopped him by grabbing his upper arm. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes were darker than usual – a side effect of the jet and med-x. He was twitchy too, fingers twirling the cigarette. “Don’t much care for having to put down a guy to make a point. ‘Less it’s an asshole like Finn.” He flicked the butt onto the floor besides the cooling corpse. “C’mon.” He slid his arm free of my hand, only to take hold of it in his own hand and lead my across the way.

At the stairwell he paused, and shouted down the stairs. “Hey Fahrenheit deal with the trash up here eh? Before the blood stains the carpet.”

“I’m on it boss!”

We crossed into his office on the opposite side of the building, and Hancock closed the doors to it. It held a desk with a terminal against one wall, though I couldn’t imagine Hancock doing paperwork.

“I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’” Hancock finally said, after completing a circuit of the room once. He paced, unable to sit still.

“Yeah? That’ll get you into trouble.” I smirked, and took a seat on the couch that was in the middle of the room, in front of a table that was surprisingly light on chems and paraphernalia – compared to the first time I’d walked into his office anyways. I’d noticed John did far less chems when we were traveling these days. But it was still a need – an addiction he hadn’t shaken, but maybe had a little more control over.

“Yeah well, you know me and trouble.” The lit cigarette spun lazily between his fingers when he wasn’t taking a drag. It was a motion he usually did with a knife. “It’s just all this traveling with you, made me realize a few things.”

“Like what?” I sat down on the couch, and put my feet up on the table.

“Being back here in Good Neighbor had me thinkin’ – I turned one of the nastiest settlements in the Commonwealth into a refuge for the lost. I thought I had done something to hang my hat on.”

“Hey, that isn’t anything to scoff at – Good Neighbor is something to be proud of – damn proud of. Don’t discount that.” That he thought it wasn’t enough was a mark of Hancock’s high standards for himself – and for what was right.

“Yeah but I’ve been thinking small time. There’s a lot more people out there that need helping.”

“That’s always going to be the case though. It was the case before the war, and it’s even more so the case now. The job not being done detract from all the accomplishments along the way.” He was pacing the room again, and as he neared me I grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “What’s really bothering you John?”

With my free hand I patted the couch beside me for him to sit. After a moment’s consideration, he did so. Letting go of his arm, I shifted and tucked one leg under the other and sat back with a slight angle so I could face him as we spoke.

“Most of my life to this point, I’ve been running out on the good things I’ve got.” His fingers tapped an anxious beat on his thigh, jitteriness a side effect of the jet. “I mean, I skipped out on my family and my life in Diamond City. Took up with you to get outta Good Neighbor.”

“That wasn’t the only reason you wanted to travel with me.”

“No, but it was part of it.” He felt quiet for a minute, considering what else he wanted to say. He hadn’t made eye contact me since the flitting glance in the other room.

“Hey, John.” I reached over and grabbed his hand, stopping the fidgeting. It made him glance up at me, and I purposefully sought out his eyes with a tilt of my head. _“I feel like we see eye to eye, and extended eye contact with a ghoul ain’t for the feint of heart”_ He’d once told me, and I’d said I must be the bravest person in the wastelands then, because it had never bothered me. “You can tell me.”

“Running from myself is what turned me into…a damn ghoul.” John’s voice was low, and it finished with a low growling edge of anger.

“What are you talking about?” I didn’t let go of his hand. But now I was curious – and concerned.

John’s eyes dropped to our hands as he answered. “The drug that did this to me, that made me a ghoul? I knew what it was going to do.” His gravelly voice was a whisper as he confessed his secret. “I just couldn’t stand looking at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore. The coward who let all those ghouls in Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys. If I took it, I’d never have to look at him again. I’d be free.”

It was good he’d looked away, because I felt my eyes sting with tears for him as my hear hurt for that kind of self-loathing. “Jesus, John. You DID help those ghouls – you tried to stop it, and helped them move here. And you DID stand up to Vic, the fact that we’re sitting here and you’re Mayor proves that.” I wiped at my eyes with my free hand, which made him look up at me. “You’re not a coward.”

A bitter laugh came from John as he shook his head. “That drug was just me running from something else again.”

“IF you were running – and I disagree with that – you ran for a reason. Damn good reasons.”

“Been trying to convince myself of that for a long time.” Hancock’s strong voice broke briefly, and he swallowed hard. “Hearing it coming from you – I don’t know if you understand what that means to me.”

I smiled, and it was heartfelt. “I have an idea.” _Probably as much as it meant to me when you said I was making a difference in the Commonwealth._

“Being back in Good Neighbor made me realize that being out there, in the wastelands with you, for the first time in my life, things have just felt _right._ ” His tone softened. “And running? It’s the farthest thing from my mind.”

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth as I held his gaze. “You better not run, you have books I gave you. I’d have to track you down to get them back.” That got a laugh from Hancock, which I shared – and his tension melted.

“Y’know I left Good neighbor thinking I’d just sharpen up the old killer instinct. But whether it’s fate, destiny, or just goddamn coincidence, I ended up with someone like you.”

I squeezed his hand. “I’m going with plain old stupid luck, and one synthetic detective friend we have in common.” _I’m pretty sure Nick knew what he was doing when he realized I was beyond his help and dragged you into my mess._

“Y’know, throwin’ in with you has been the best decision I ever made. You’re one hell of a friend.” His husky voice was full of admiration and heartfelt thanks.

I my the blush that warmed my cheeks as I smiled. “You ain’t so bad yourself.” I licked my suddenly dry lips slowly as I considered a question. In the months since the massacre it’d crossed my mind a few times – _Where is this going? Do I want something more?_ And it’d left me feeling like a damn teenager when I thought about it. With John’s constant level of flirting and easy charisma, it made it hard to tell if there was genuine interest. “You ever think of us as more than friends?”

“Yeah of course, but that’s a given when you got me around. I don’t mean no harm by it. And I don’t want it to affect what we got.”

The brush off was so smooth, so warm, I didn’t even feel awkward for having asked.

“Course not. You’re the best friend I’ve got.” I simply smiled, and squeezed his hand again. “C’mon, let’s go watch MacCready make a fool of himself.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

All the months of searching police stations, and it had come down to this. We’d picked up Nick, given him the tapes, and waited while he processed the information. Combined with his thick file on Eddie Winters, Nick had determined that the old gangster was holed up under Andrew Station.

And he was probably still alive – and a ghoul.

John, Nick, and I had fought through the raiders that had been using the old T station as their base. It had taken hours, as the tunnels turned rougher, breaking through the T and into basements and subterranean areas beneath the city. I had no track of time besides the glowing digits on my pipboy.

The way Nick and John fought together told me they’d done this before – though their coordination wasn’t as smooth as John and I. But as a trio, we quickly found a system that worked, and the raiders stood no chance. It was the smoothest infiltration I’d ever done, and despite the hours past I’d only suffered a few minor grazes.

Standing in front of the sealed door, buried beneath Boston, we stared at the keypad.

“Are you ready for this Nick?”

“After all these years…” There was wistfulness in his voice, and an edge that sharpened as he continued. “It’s about time Eddie Winters pays for the things he’s done. That filthy toad is right on the other side of that door. Why don’t you do the honors Bric?”

I nodded, and reached for the control panel. “What’s the code?”

I punched it in as Nick recited it. With a hiss the seal on the door gave way, and I pushed it open. I let Nick walk in first. On the other side was a large studio style apartment – with a bed, table, kitchenette, and desk. And in the middle of the room was a large, square-shouldered man – well a ghoul – in a pale button down t-shirt and khakis. Surprisingly, he had a shock of grey-white hair on his head, despite being a ghoul.

“The fuck?” Eddie said as we entered. I imagine our blood-splattered and armed figures cut a figure – not to mention John’s typical attire. And I had secured a tri-cornered hat of my own, much to John’s amusement. “Who the fuck are you?” Eddie sounded like a typical Boston city dweller, accent and all.

I remembered the name from before the war – though I hadn’t read all the paper articles on the infamous gangster and the mess he was tied in. I did remember being unsurprised when his trial fell apart. Knowing what I knew now – what he had done to Nick, or rather, to the detective who’s memories Nick had – I found myself gleeful at the idea of putting a bullet in his smug face.

“Eddie! It’s me!” I used my best fake Irish-Boston accent as I held out my hands with smirk. “Yer old pal – Mollie McFuckYourself!”

John nearly choked on his mentat as he laughed behind me, which made me grin all the more. Even Nick shot me a glance, amusement in those yellow eyes.

“All this time, and the first person to walk through my door is a wise ass.” Eddie wasn’t as amused as we were. But then he was facing three heavily armed people who had barged into his hideout. “But hey, you are easy on the eyes. So that’s something.” He gave me a lecherous once over and I narrowed my eyes at him in disgust. Even his tone was greasy. Behind me I heard the angry growl of a threat from John. Eddie glanced at him, and his brows shot up briefly in an ‘huh there are other ghouls’ sort of manner.

“So how the fuck did you… no wait, don’t tell me. After all these years you cracked the code in my holotapes?” Eddie started to laugh. “Its only been what like 200 years?” More rumbling laughter. “Dunno what you thought you’d find – gold, jewels, secrets of the universe – but you got me. One guy. A “ghoul” I guess you’d call me. Just living, surviving – and what I got you can’t have.” There was that smug certainty. One old man facing a dangerous trio, and he was still sure he’d come out on top.

“That code was a joke, just something to prove how dumb those feds were. So take your asses somewhere else.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get what I came for.” Nick stepped closer to Eddie, his voice angry and low.

“Yeah, what’s that? And who the hell are you? You look kinda familiar – what are you some kinda robot?” Eddie continued to be smugly amused, and my urge to punch that grin off his face was rising. “Is that what it is out there now? A world of robot overlords? I knew it!” He laughed at his own joke. My fist clenched.

“Name’s Valentine. Nick Valentine. Remember me?”

“Valentine? The cop? Sorry pal but you ain’t Nick Valentine, you’re just some kind of …machine.”

I stepped forwards with violence in my heart, only John grabbed my hand stopped me from pistol whipping the old gangster. _He’s more of a man than you are damnit._

“You killed my fiancé, Jennifer Lands. There are some crimes even you can’t get await with Winter.” Nick’s voice was cold and determined.

I gasped – this was the first I’d heard of Jennifer as a fiancé. Suddenly pieces clicked into place and the personal level of this entire case made sense.

“You mean Valentine’s fiancé? Pretty girl. Shame what happened to her.” The mock sympathy in his voice had both John and I gripping weapons. _Fucking asshole._

“But hey you…or, you know, the real Valentine, should have backed off when he had the chance. But what gives robot man? Why do you even care? Some girl gets whacked 200 years ago and you come into my home acting like the hard guy? Christ look at you, you’re not even alive.”

I stepped forward and backhanded Eddie, temper flaring and not able to control myself anymore. He stumbled a step – caught unaware as he had focused on Nick. “You’re a worthless piece of shit Eddie.” I growled.

“Huh, she’s a feisty one.” Eddie mused as he stared at me.

“Guess I’m in good company then.” Nick drawled, as he raised his pistol and shot Eddie, point blank, as he was holding his hand to his stinging cheek.

The Gangster stumbled and went down. Nick’s pistol barked a few more times, just to be sure.

Well, we’re done here.” Nick stared at the corpse for a few minutes, processing the end of years of effort. “There’s one more thing I’ve got to do. I…I wouldn’t mind the company, if you two want to tag along.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

We found a back door to the hideout – a broken wall to an old speakeasy that had a doorway in an old donut shop. Out on the street, beside the river, Nick stopped. Yellow eyes took in the sights for a long time, making sure this was the right spot.

“This is it.” His voice was quiet and distant, lost in memories of another man, years ago. “In this spot, over 200 years ago, one of Eddie’s boys put a bullet in Jenny Lands back. Now Eddie’s as dead as Jenny and Nick and I…I’m at a loss.” Nick stared out into the distance, awash in emotions. _If I ever doubted synths are people, Nick is proof they are._

“Taking down Winters is a big deal.” John said as he took the first drag on a fresh cigarette. “That’s a lotta work finally paid off.”

“Are you ok Nick?” It was a stupid, habitual question – he clearly wasn’t. I touched his shoulder as he knelt on the spot where a woman had died centuries ago.

After a moment, he said “I don’t know, it’s a lot to take in.” He stood up, dusting off his knee, and looked from John to me. “Winters was it, the only reminder left of the original Nick Valentine. The only proof outside of some dusty archive in the Institute that I was ever just a mechanical copy of some cop from a bygone era. I’m not sure how to feel.”

“You were never just a copy.” John and I said, almost in unison. We glanced at each other, sharing a brief grin.

“Everything you’ve done here Nick – that’s you. This just puts the past to rest, for good. You should feel free.”

“And everyone deserves to live free.” John said with an edge of authority.

Nick looked at both of us, and his shoulders shrugged slightly. “I wish it was that easy, but it’s not.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Because I WAS Nick Valentine – I had his memories, his fears, all that poor bastards hope. I even remember getting the call to go to some lab in Cambridge to get the neurotrans-whatever. Next thing I know I’m waking up in a trash heap. My family, my home, my entire life – gone.”

“Hey.” I squeezed his arm. “I know that feeling.” Waking up in a vault, remembering the bombs, it was a feeling of complete loss. Nick gave me a sympathetic shared smile.

“I guess you do. Except, then I discovered all those things – they weren’t even mine. Everything I ever was belonged to Nick. I’d hoped with Winter gone, the last hint of that old world snuffed out, I could finally be free.” His voice had a slight waver to it of uncertainty and sorrow.

“You can be – you are.” I wished I could make everything better for Nick, but was at a loss. I looked to John for support, but his features were dark with the same helpless compassion.

“Being out here with you I realized that taking down Winter wasn’t about Jenny, or Nick, or even you or me. It was about justice, and doing what’s right. And that act of goodness, that’s ours. All the good we’ve done, that’s ours and ours alone. And even if that’s the only thing in this world I can ever claim as mine – not Nick’s, not the Institutes, but mine – then I can die happy.” There was a spark of something – an acceptance of that little fact, that finally touched Nick’s mottled features beneath his hat.

“You’ve done a lot more good than just removing that old sleazy gangster.” I said. “Jesus Nick I wouldn’t be here without you. Which means any good I do you can take credit for too y’know.”

“There’s dozens of ghouls who owe you their lives Nick.” John’s voice was thick with memories.

“Everything you’ve done since you woke up is all YOURS, not anyone elses.” I added after a moment.

Nick was quiet for a minute, taking it all in. The ghost of a smile touched his eyes, as he seemed to realize he had two friends who cared about him, despite whatever else he thought of himself. “None of it would have ever happened without you – I don’t know if I can ever thank you for that.”

“You don’t have to Nick.”

“You can’t stop being noble now can you?” The detective’s yellow eyes brightened with a laugh.

I grinned. “I try to live up to my friends standards.” Taking in a deep breath I added, “The past might make us who we are, but it doesn’t have to define tomorrow.” I glanced from Nick to John – two men trying to help the Commonwealth that wouldn’t help itself, while dealing with their own histories.

_Two men I am so proud to call friends._

With a bright smile I grabbed both their hands. “C’mon guys, we got miles to go.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact, I failed every flirt and romance on Hancock. I was so mad. At the time, the game was new and the internet only told me to reload - the consensus was there was no second chance! Thankfully that wasn't true and it did finally repop and I romanced that suave ghoul with the sexy voice.
> 
> I decided the last chapter was too sad of a note to leave on (and now that I've written through to chapter 20) so here's a bonus.


	13. A Wastelander Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric hosts a holiday gathering, and gets a gift all her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH OH OH It's HERE! The chapter that started this entire story. It's NSFW. It's probably what everyone was waiting for. And it's my first smut in a long long LONG time so let's see how this goes.

**_You'll never know if you never try  
To forget your past and simply be mine_ **

**_I dare you to let me be your one and only  
I promise I'm worthy_ **

**_~Adele_ **

 

The doors to my little personal sanctuary were closed. People kept trying to sneak peaks in the windows, but I had expected that. I’d saved up bits of cloth in the last few weeks and stitched them into patchwork curtains which now hung from metal rods in front of each window over the last few days. I’d been slowly turning the old house into something more homey – my little personal space dotted with items I’d collected through the last 14 months in the Wasteland.

I’d repaired the bathroom with a tub, turned one room into a bedroom, and a second into a storage space. The front room housed one large table, dragged from the dining hall, and a small working kitchen I’d gotten Sturgis to help me with in the last few days.

I had been cleaning – sweeping the floor, wiping down the tables and the kitchen area the entire morning. Next setting up clean dishes. The mismatched set looked charming. A few gourd blossoms and other flowers of the wastelands were in chipped blue and white vases dotting the table. Each sitting had a scrap cloth napkin folded neatly on its center.

Then I had prepped the food. The farm was becoming productive, with the help of a few new settlers with experience. I’d tried to remember my mother’s old recipes, but had been forced to modify it some. It smelled fantastic anyways. And I’d claimed several extra loaves of razorgrain bread from the regular chef which were in a basket on the table.

With food in the oven, I then wrapped the small presents I’d collected. Newspaper and duct tape did the trick, with crisp fold edges they looked nice wrapped up with scrap cloth bows. Second to last on the list I had cleaned myself up – a quick wash up, a new clean blue denim dress, and I’d brushed out my hair. For the first time since I’d crawled out of cryo I didn’t have a pony tail. _I need a damn hair cut._ And for the first time since before the war, I wore a dress. Still had my black combat boots though. Snugged in a thigh holster beneath the dress was my trusty 10mm pistol as well.

Lastly, I poured the wine I’d carefully stockpiled in the past few weeks into each glass. They weren’t wine glasses, but it didn’t really matter.

I took a deep satisfied breath and looked around the house. Hung with lightbulbs on strings from the newest generator, the table dotted with warm candles and extra flowers, it didn’t look like it had when I was a kid. _It looks like home anyways though._

It was weeks in the planning – selective scavenging, secretive planning. Ever since I’d seen Preston’s calendar and realized it was December.

I ran my fingers through my long hair. It felt odd to have it down. _Tables, flowers, place settings, gifts, dinner is almost ready. That’s it!_ One more deep breath and I went and opened the door.

Everyone was milling about outside, now dying with curiosity since I’d disappeared into the building that morning with instructions to meet here at 7 pm, cleaned up, and not to come inside under pain of death.

I couldn’t help smiling brightly to see everyone there – the people without whom I would have died months ago. MacCready, Hancock, and Cait all basically lived in Sanctuary these days, together with Preston and Sturgis who coordinated most of Sanctuary. Nick, Piper, and her little sister came in from Diamond City. Everyone was scrubbed as clean as one could get in the wasteland these days. And someone had brushed Dogmeat and put a red bandana around his neck. He barked a hello at me.

“Whoa, lookin’ good there doll.” Hancock said in his gravelly dry voice. He grinned. “This must be somethin’ special, as I figured you were allergic to dresses.”

MacCready whistled appreciatively. “And here I thought I was the sharpest dresser around these days.” He touched the brim of his hat and inclined his head towards me.

“Not as long as I’m around.” Hancock retorted with a chuckle.

“I dunno guys, maybe the Institute replaced Bric with a malfunctioning Synth.” Piper grinned.

“You look lovely my dear.” Nick said with a smile.

I laughed. “Alright everyone, come on in and take a seat!”

The building filled with murmurs of appreciation and surprise as everyone took in the scene before them. Everyone took their seats – tiny paper scraps had names on each plate – and I went and pulled dinner from the oven. Placing it on the table I soaked in the scene for a moment: one long table, my seat was at the head, to my left was Hancock, then Piper and her sister, to my right was Nick, MacCready, Preston, and Cait. And beneath the table happy to clean up scraps and get the occasional petting was my ever faithful Dogmeat.

_It’s perfect._

Still standing I picked up my glass. “I know you all are wondering what this is about, or you’ve just assumed I lost my mind.” I smiled. “But I promise you I haven’t. I noticed a few weeks ago in Preston’s office that it was December. Back when I was growing up, at the end of December on the 25th – today – we celebrated Christmas.”

“I’ve read about that.” Piper said. “It sort of fell by the way side after the War. So did Thanksgiving.” She said sadly.

“Which is sad, because holidays were focused on family and friends – the thing we need to focus on when times are the darkest.” I took a deep breath, licking my lips. “Look I’m not an orator, and I’ll keep this short. I just wanted to thank you all – without everyone in this room, I wouldn’t be here. The world is a dark and terrible place – I’m no optimist who believes people are inherently good. But there ARE good people even in bad places. When you find good people in a world like this you grab hold and don’t let go. So thank you all.” I raised my glass. “A toast to friends: the bright lights in dark places.”

“Cheers!” was followed by clicking glasses and bright smiles around the table.

“Now before we dig in go on and open your gifts! It’s nothing fancy, but my Mom always told me it’s the thought that counts.” I grinned with anticipation.

For Piper I’d found a new notebook and pens and some of those fancy architect pencils. For her sister it was a Grognak comic and a mostly-new newsboy cap in dark navy. For Nick it was a carton of his favorite cigarettes, and two books from the library: Wizard of Oz and Sherlock Holmes. I had had to restore a few pages with some carefully added writing in them, but they were mostly intact despite their age. For Hancock there was a small box of antique silver buttons to replace ones lost on his favored jacket and his preferred cigarette brands, and a battered copy of Robinson Crusoe. Each person got a few small items that I hoped they’d appreciate based on moments we’d shared in the last year.

Food was served, and the room warmed with conversation. As the night wore on and we finished off bottle after bottle, laughter filled the room. People shared stories and bits of their life, warm and safe in their tiny Sanctuary.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The wine ran out around midnight, and someone finally made the mistake of glancing at the single large mechanical clock that hung over the kitchen on the wall. With the realization of the time, people slowly dispersed back to the houses. As each one departed I insisted on a hug – something not done all that often in the Wasteland.

“Thank you for this.” Piper said. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and she had laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. “I needed this. WE needed this.” She hugged me again, and headed to the guest house with her sister. The town had grown large enough – and was getting enough traders – to merit a house just for guests moving through.

“You’re one heck of a class act Bric.” Nick drawled. “But I already knew that.” He touched the brim of his fedora and inclined his head. “I knew when I met you that if anyone could rise above the cruelty and violence of the Commonwealth, it was going to be you.”

“I had a rough start, but I couldn’t have found my way without you.” Nick was someone special – and after my first missteps I’d tried to live up to his expectations as best I could.

“It took me a long time to realize that home is where you make it. I am so glad you’ve made this your home. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

Laughing I threw my arms around his neck in a hug. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. Then he returned the embrace with a low chuckle I could feel rumbling in his chest. Nick was a synth, and he felt cold and hard to the touch. But he had more heart than man I’d ever had the fortune of meeting though. I squeezed him tightly, and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks kid.” He said quietly.

“No Nick. Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if not for you, in particular.” He’d been one of the first people I’d met, after Preston that is. He’d shown me the ropes and saved my ass more times than I could count. He never let his anxiety and doubt over who and what he was get in the way of helping someone else out. And perhaps most importantly, he’d given me a second chance.

I stood and watched everyone make their ways back to their beds after saying their goodnights to each other. I turned back to the table, now littered with dishes. A sigh contentment escaped my lips. _Mom always said a big pile of dishes was the sign of successfully dinner._ I started gathering them up, taking a large pile to the sink.

I was watching the water run, filling the sink to let the dishes soak when gnarled and wrinkled pink hands set down a second pile of dishes. Glancing up into black eyes, olive iris’s difficult to separate out, I smiled. “Thanks John, but you don’t have to do that. I got it.”

“I’m sure you do.” But the smirk on his thin lips said he was going to help anyways.

I turned off the water, and together we collected all the dishes, and rinsed out the wine bottles in companionable silence. With everything cleaned up, I walked with him to the door. He had his own room in one of the other buildings – when he wasn’t checking up on things in Good Neighbor. If Nick was a favored mentor and teacher, then John was my partner in crime.

With a hiss of a match being stuck, Hancock lit up a cigarette. I heard him take a long drag and exhale before saying “That was quite the dinner party sister. Took an awful lot of planning.”

“It did. But it was worth it.” I tilted my head to stare up at the brilliant night sky. The benefit to the end of society is no more light pollution. The Milky Way twinkled as a bright streak across the sky. A nearly full moon cast enough light to see the town clearly with. Old houses were mismatched with new construction to make room for more settlers. I took in a deep breath of crisp night air and let it out slowly. “It was perfect. Thank you for being part of it.”

“Show up and eat food? I can do that.” He chuckled a dry raspy sound. Hancock came off harsh – and I had no doubts he was dangerous. But after so many months traveling together, I’d come to agree with Nick’s assessment: he had a good heart. We were all dangerous out here – you didn’t survive if you weren’t.  

“Couldn’t help noticing you kept your pistol at hand, though.” He would have arched his brow, if he had any. Instead there was an extra wrinkle in his streaked pink skin above his eye.

“I’m a realist, and not a fool.” My hand fell self consciously to the gun on my thigh.

“Didn’t say you were. Wouldn’t still be here if you were.” Another long drag of his smoke. “Thanks for the buttons, doll.” His smile was warm and friendly, and I returned it.

“You’re welcome.” I’d noticed he’d lost a few in the last skirmish with raiders. The red frock coat was his most prized possession, next to that hat. They were as much a ward against his past as they were armor. _He’s not as confident as he acts._

After a minute of silence I said “Well, good night.”

“What, no hug for me?” Hairless brows waggled as he smirked. “I’m hurt.”

I chuckled. “You didn’t leave when everyone else did, when I was handing them out. Thank you, for the help by the way.”

He tipped the brim of his tricorn hat. “Always a pleasure to help out a pretty lady.”

I’d learned the ghoul was a hopeless flirt, but it still made me blush briefly. I was thankful it was dark. _But then his night vision is good enough to see it isn’t it?_ It was probably better for everyone that Hancock was a ghoul – to have looks on top his of charisma and cynical charm would make him even more dangerous than he already was.

I had to wonder though, what he’d looked like five years ago. Before he took some serum to escape his own face in the mirror. Irma at the Memory Den had only hinted – _“If you think he’d handsome and dangerous now, you should have known him back then. And I thought I knew how to have a good time.”_

He made no move to leave. I didn’t push it, enjoying the company and the cool night as we leaned on opposite sides of the door frame. I watched the sky in silence, aware that he was watching me. I let my minder flit through memories from our travels through the Commonwealth.

“Hey John? Do you…do you ever think about …us?” It was probably the warmth of the wine talking, but we’d have enough nights spent talking that he knew more about me than any of my other friends – even Nick. I’d asked once before and been deflected with practiced ease – ‘ _that’s a given when you got me around, and I don’t mean no harm by it.’_

“What like…you and me?” He was caught off guard, which was hard to do. “As in, together?”

I laughed, chalking up his awkwardness to the drinks we’d shared. “Yes. That’s what I meant. Something more than friends.”

“Well of course. I have my impure thoughts from time to time, I ain’t no preacher. That’s just expected with me. But…” He took a quick drag of his smoke, then dropped it and ground it out with his boot. “We got a good thing here Bricelyn. You’re the best friend I’ve got. Helping the people with a friend like you – this is the life I’d been looking for.” He paused to consider, gaze avoiding my own. “You don’t want to wake up next to this ugly mug every morning. Never wish that on anybody I cared about.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s my choice who I wake up next to.” I’d realized that while Hancock dripped confidence and self assurance, he hid his insecurities behind self deprecating jokes

“I thought you had better taste than that.” His husky chuckle was amused with disbelief.

“And if I don’t?”

For the first time in months, John Hancock was speechless. He shrugged slightly, uncertain of a response.

“You’re just the way I like John.” I said quietly. _A fucking hero trying to help the very people who’d see him burn for a few scars._ “Fuck anyone who makes you feel ashamed for that.”

“Wasn’t think of the folks doin’ the shaming…” He replied, trailing off. _He’s just thinking of me – my reputation, what other people would say._

Impulsively, I reached up and touched his cheek. Something I’d wanted to do since I first met him. Ghouls were just people. I had wondered what that shiny pink skin would feel like beneath my fingers. Unlike the ferals, it was warm and smooth – not dry and leathery. I’d humored the thoughts in the past few months, wondering if it was just his nature to flirt or if there was potential for something more. I slid my thumb back and forth a few times. _It’s just scar tissue, like any bad burn._

Suddenly a wave of anxiety washed over me. I bit my lower lip and started to pull my hand back. He grabbed my wrist and held it there, rubbing a rough thumb over the back of my hand.

“If you don’t have better taste than that, I guess that’s a win for me.” John said softly, his dark eyes glittered with a hopefulness I hadn’t seen before.

I stepped forwards, not moving my hand, and kissed him. Tentatively, at first. He was warm and tasted like wine and cigarettes. It didn’t feel any different from anyone else I’d kissed. I felt him tense up as though expecting something negative.

I slide my hand along the contours of his wrinkled and damaged skin to the back of his neck, and deepened the kiss. Feeling him relax, he slid his hands around my waist and pulled me close. I pressed against him, feeling the comfort of being held by another.

After several languid kisses we mutually pulled apart. His hands stayed comfortably on my hips. I kept my arms around his shoulders. I met his dark eyes for a moment, and felt my heart race. _Loving in the Commonwealth is dangerous, and I am in trouble,_ I realized.

“See, times like this, I know karma is bullshit.” John’s husky voice rumbled as he spoke softly. “Because there is no way a guy like me should be this lucky.” There was a brightness dancing in his dark eyes, a joy that made me smile to see it.

“I could say the same thing. I still don’t know why you gave me a second chance.” Memories of the pyscho addiction that plagued my first few months flitted through my thoughts, coloring my cheeks with shame.

“Everyone deserves a second chance. And I owed Nick big.” John’s dark eyes glittered as he met mine. “Ended up the best decision I’ve made in a long time. I promised you I wasn’t going to skip out on you like I have the rest of the good things in my life – and I meant it. Ain’t nothing going to change that.”

John was giving me an out – the unspoken sentiment that I could walk away right now, and he wouldn’t hold it against me for turning him down. _That confident ladies man is a mask as much as his name._ We had nights spent trapped by radstorms and spend sharing bottles of liquor that had led to confessions we’d sworn to secrecy the next day. I knew he’d used the serum that made him a ghoul to run from himself. Beneath the confident attitude was a broken man, trying desperately to not to hate himself anymore. _How can you hate yourself John when I’m so in love with you?_

“Are you saying you think this is a mistake?” I tilted my head, not taking my eyes off his.

“I’m just sayin’ I ain’t going anywhere – no matter how this goes.”

I shivered, having been in the chill night air for longer than intended in a light denim dress. He slid his hands up and down my sides for a moment’s warmth. I leaned in, kissing him again slowly. Pulling back only the slightest, our noses would have touched if he still had one. “I know, and neither am I. I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks.” I murmured.

“You sure about this?” John’s mask of confidence had slipped, a line of worry etched on his forehead that I’d regret it in the morning – and he’d have ruined our friendship.

In response, I kissed him again, pressing against him. I trailed kisses along his ruined cheek along the hills and valleys of the scars. “Is it really so hard to believe? I’m damn sure John.” I murmured in his ear before pulling back.

“C’mon love, let’s get this freak show on the road.” John smiled, joy alighting in his eyes. I slid my arms down his, grabbing his hand and pulling him back inside. He kicked the door shut behind us.

 

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

My room was something of a nest – two mattresses on the ground piled high with blankets and pillows. It was lit by one lantern and a handful of candles on a small dresser, which was scattered with trinkets from the wasteland. As soon I stepped into the room I spun around, still holding his hand tightly, and kissed him again.

My fingers sought the buttons of his jacket, undoing them one by one, so I could slide it off his broad shoulders. It fell away, and he wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my neck and placing soft kisses along my collar bone. A little noise of pleasure escaped my lips. It had been over a year since the vault, and longer before that, since I’d had a partner. I forgotten how good the touch of someone felt.

I started on the buttons of his vest and shirt, undoing them but not taking it off. I slid my hands against the warmth of his body. He twitched from my cold fingers, and a husky laugh escaped me with a murmured “sorry” as I traced the crests and troughs of his skin. He was warm, the ruined skin smooth and despite the horror stories, it didn’t slough off at my caresses.

A low purr of pleasure rumbled in his chest as he kissed me with increased passion. _It’s been too damn long_. I stepped backwards, forcing him to step with me to keep contact. I slowly slid down onto my bed, and he knelt in front of me. I saw a spark of worry in his eyes – a fear of rejection as I slid off the rest of his shirt. As soon as I did I kissed his shoulder, and trailed kisses across the wrinkled scars of his chest.

John’s nimble fingers undid my dress, and it slid free of my shoulders. I leaned back onto the bed, drawing him with me. Despite the desperate need rising in both of us, we went slowly, exploring every scar with kisses. I untied the flag from around his waist and tossed it aside, then his belt. He lavished attention on every piece of me.

I held his gaze, and saw his uncertainty fall away as he read the desperate desire in my eyes. A cocky smirk danced on his lips, and he started to tease me with well placed kisses. He was skilled – every bit as good as I’d secretly hoped with his playboy reputation. John was a connoisseur of the female body – and one who hadn’t had a chance to demonstrate his prowess in some time. He took great pleasure and pride in doing so.

I loved the feel of him, and his gravelly voice in my ear as he was atop me. We found a rhythm filled with soft cries of ecstasy and the gasps and groans of pleasure. Every murmur of his name on my lips made him light up with satisfaction.

I came first by moments, surprising myself – but not John. His dark eyes glittered with approval. We collapsed in a sweaty pile, limbs entangled. Snuggled against his side my fingers idly traced the lines and waves of his hairless chest. I shivered, and he pulled blankets atop us. As we laid in comfortable silence he lit up a cigarette, taking a few drags in comfortable silence.

I let my fingers wander slowly downwards, to his hip, then back up. The texture of his damaged skin was endlessly fascinating, waves and troughs of shining pink and dark red scars – some newer than others . I propped myself up on my elbow, studying his face. I watched the shadows dance across him, trying to fix the image in my mind. _I’m in trouble, I think I’m falling in love._  

John’s eyes met mine and there was a flash of concern – and a pregnant pause as though he were expecting me to move.

“What?” I tilted my head.

“Nothing.” He blew smoke towards the ceiling. “You want me to get dressed?”

I cocked my head to the side, brow arched with unasked questions. I continued to let my fingers wander his torso. Between the wine and sex my mind was slow to put the pieces into place. “Oh, John.” I said softly, voice filled with sympathy. _People are assholes._ I wanted to say. Instead I leaned in and kissed him, letting my lips linger against his mouth as I slide my leg across his hips and over to straddle him. “It’d be silly to get dressed.” Letting my long hair veil us both as I trailed kisses across his chest and up to his cheek I murmured, “When I’m not done with you yet my love.”

John’s smile was outshone only by the relief and joy that glittered in his dark eyes. He flicked aside the cigarette and slid his hands onto my hips. “You are my kinda trouble love.”

 

 ---------------------------------------------------------------

 

I made a little groan of protest as I woke up, stretching briefly before nestling back down under the blankets and pressing against John’s side.

His rough finger brushed my hair behind my ear, then traced down my cheek. He murmured “Morning sunshine” and kissed the top of my head.

I smiled as squeezed my eyes shut, and let the memories of the previous evening replay in my head. A little purring sound of content escaped my closed lips. “How long have you been up?”

John shrugged. “An hour or two.” I knew he really didn’t sleep much, whether it was a side effect of ghoulification, chems, or a personal quirk. I knew he’d watched me sleep many a night.

“You could have moved.” I finally opened my eyes, tilting my head to meet his eyes and finding contentment there.

“Nah, I wanted to let you sleep.” His arm was wrapped protectively around me, hand resting on my hip. I slid my foot up and down his leg slowly, enjoying the sensation of his skin against mine. _I’d forgotten how good this feels._

“I don’t want to get up.” I pouted. It was warm and comfortable, and getting up meant leaving the night behind.

John’s chest shook with his husky chuckle. “It’s been light out for at least an hour. Nick and Piper will be leaving soon.”

“Oh shit, right.” I made a noise of protest, and slowly unhooked my leg from his. “I do want to see them off.” I sat up slowly with some regret.

He sat up behind me, and brushed my hair over my shoulder, then kissed the back of my neck, trailing kisses to my shoulder. His hands slid to the soft sides of my wide hips. “I’m gonna be real mad if this turns out to be one long jet flashback.”

I laughed, “Me too.” He laid his head on my shoulder as I leaned back against him, relishing in the warmth of his touch. “I can’t help wishing we’d done this sooner.” I finally whispered.

John shook his head without lifting it from my shoulder. “Joining up with you was the best decision I ever made. I know right where I belong. I feel like I’ve found a piece of myself I never realized I was missing.”

I learned my head against his, and my hands atop him. “Broken people like us are a little like puzzle pieces, somewhere there’s the piece that fits with yours. Putting them together makes the picture a bit more clear.

 

 

 


	14. Brief distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the misfit crew of Bric's friends find out about her new relationship, for better or for worse. Bric and Hancock have a few run ins with trouble, including with the Brotherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another NSFW chapter. This scene in particular is a tumblr inspiration - somewhere is a comic someone had done with these exact scene, though it was safe for work and didn't carry it to its ultimate conclusion.
> 
> I have so such shame. 
> 
> This is up a few hours early, so it's not really a 'bonus' chapter per say, but rather tomorrow's chapter today!

We didn’t flaunt the change in our relationship, but we didn’t hide it either. Nick, Piper and her sister had gone back to Diamond city. Life in Sanctuary returned to usual: farming, rebuilding, training settlers to defend the area. We all took turns on patrol as days flowed into weeks with familiar ease. Patrols and checking up on settlements let me continue to stockpile supplies: meds, chems, and metal and ceramic to work on improving my set of power armor with Sturgis.

I was repairing a piece of armor one afternoon when Cait strolled over.

“Are you bangin’ the ghoul?” She declared in her Irish lilt, eyes wide with excitement. The ex-brawler had no tact, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.

But I was.

I startled, dropping my tools with a clatter on the bench and glanced around. Preston was at the weapon’s workbench, upgrading some pistols for the settlers. He glanced at us briefly – there was no way he didn’t hear Cait – but he turned back to his task.

Grabbing Cait by the elbow I lead her away from the main square. She laughed the entire way

“It’s not like you’ve been discrete. He’s been at your place every night you two are here.”

“It’s not a secret, no. It just doesn’t need to be blurted out in the town’s square. What are you? Watching us?” My cheeks were pink with amused embarrassment.

“I always take night patrol, I hate being up early. Watchin’ is part the job.” Cait laughed. “Good for both of you. It’s about damn time.”

My brow shot up. “How so?”

“Jesus Bric, how did you not know? The way he looks at you? Especially when you’re not looking? I’ve had a bet with MacCready for months for when you two’d finally hop in the sack.”

My blush deepened, which only made Cait’s grin grow. “Wait a bet?”

“I mean, I’ve heard rumors – and what I’ve heard on nightly patrol seems to confirm them.” I gasped as she wiggled her brows. “Is Commonwealth’s biggest playboy still in fine form?” I smacked her arm, laughing. “I’m taking that as a yes. Damn. I should have taken him for a spin when I had the chance. So how long? I wanna know if I won!”

“Christmas.”

“Damnit!” Cait’s nose wrinkled in annoyance. “MacCready wins.” She grabbed my wrist and pretty much dragged me to the shooting range we’d set up. MacCready was there, along with Hancock, discussing weapons. Hancock wore his hat, but the frock coat was tossed over the wooden fence that separated the range from the rest of the town. He wore an old white t-shirt and blue jeans, and his black boots. I admired the sight. He’d become comfortable in Sanctuary, willing to leave the costume aside when here.

MacCready’s jacket was next to Hancock’s, the only difference in attire being his suspenders and military pants instead of jeans. They were discussing the rifle John held. The two had known each other from Good Neighbor, and found an easy friendship once firmly on the same side. Cait and MacCready were themselves the second strongest patrol pair after Hancock and I. They’d become fast friends – it was hard not to with hours spent in the wasteland with each other.

“RJ!” Cait was calling across the distance even as we neared. “You win damnit!”

We came to a stop in front of the men. MacCready was laughing. “Oh yeah? That’s some damn good news.”

Cait was pouting, arms across her chest. “I get to pick the day. And the dress.”

“Wait, what did you two bet?” I looked from one of them to the other.

MacCready’s grin widened. “She has to wear a dress. For one entire day.”

“And if she won?”

“Then I’d wear it!” MacCready was young – maybe 22 – but had a rough life. It was a pattern in this post-apocalypse. His laughter was infectious as we all considered that possibility.

“Damn, I wish Cait’d won then.”

“What was this bet?” Hancock asked, hairless brow arching with interest, as he set the rifle aside.

MacCready tried to hide the slight blush that crept up his cheeks. “Oh just, uh -” He stammered.

“We bet on when you two would finally fuck.” Cait declared in her lilt with a laugh. The former brawler had no shame nor tact. “Took ya long enough.”

John was laughing, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him, spinning me so I still faced our friends. In a rare public display of affection, his bare arms slid around my waist from behind and he held me close. John was painfully aware of what others thought of ghouls. While he wasn’t afraid to use it to his advantage when possible, he also avoided drawing any more attention than was necessary to the two of us. I thought he was also afraid that the negative attention might make me rethink our relationship. So public displays of affection from him were exceedingly rare.

“Some things are worth waiting for Cait.” He kissed my cheek, and I leaned back into him, tilting my head so he could rest his chin on my shoulder.

“Aww, it’s so cute it’s gagworthy.” Cait said with a grin.

MacCready nodded his agreement. “Cait’s just jealous.” She punched him in the arm – hard. “Oh who am I kidding? I am too.”

We chatted for a few minutes, before I saw Preston approaching. John saw him at the same time, and his hands started to slip off my waist. I clasped my hands over his, stopping him stepping back. _I’m so tired of walking on fucking eggshells for people._

Beneath the wide-brimmed militia hat I saw the wrinkles of disgust on Preston’s dark skinned face. He came to a stop besides Cait, tipping his hat as he said “General. Cait. MacCready,” by way of greeting.

It didn’t help that, ghoul or no, Preston didn’t like Hancock. Their personalities just didn’t mesh – and John liked to antagonize the law-abiding Minute men from time to time.

“You need something Preston?” I felt the flicker of tension in John’s figure behind me – he knew Preston wasn’t happy with the scene. Preston shifted his weight uncomfortably – suddenly keenly aware he was interrupting a conversation.

“I’ve got a few new reports I think you should see.” He said simply, eyes darting about and trying not to stare.

It was a mediocre lie – he’d been working on upgrading weapons before coming over to us. _It’s an excuse to get me alone for another lecture._ I was getting tired of it.

With a sigh I stepped away from John, letting his hands slide off my hips but keeping one hand held in my own. I gave it a squeeze as I turned around to give him a kiss. With Cait’s loudness, anyone who didn’t know about us would soon enough. _And if they don’t like it they, fuck ‘em._

In Preston’s office and living quarters, he closed the door behind me. “We need to talk.”

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “What about this time?” It was never a conversation, it was Preston-talks-and-I-listen.

“I think your judgement has been clouded lately. I’m concerned about how things have been going.” He paced a little in the office as he spoke.

“If this is about John and I – save it Preston. I won’t let you piss all over the best thing I’ve got.”

“But Hancock is –“

“No. I’m not having this conversation again. He is my friend – and more. I don’t care if you don’t like how he operates, and you think good Neighbor is a filthy den of thieves. John’s a damn strong ally to have – and we need all the friends we can get if we want to make it.”

“But you’re the damn General Bric! What you do reflects on all of us.” A deep frown creased his features.

“And I didn’t want to be. You said yourself – you were the last of the Minutemen, and no one could argue with your giving me the title. You want, it’s all yours.”

He shook his head quickly. Preston was basically leading the Minutemen – doing all of the organizing and strategizing – but he was afraid to take on the title of General. I could only guess as to why – and it had something to do with the Quincy Massacre and the events that followed it.

“Then stop holding that title over my head.” I sighed again, shoulders heaving with the action. “Can’t you just be happy for me like everyone else is?”

“Maybe I’ve just been seeing something in you that wasn’t really there. It’s happened to me before you know.” Preston leaned forwards on the table in the center of the room – it was covered by a large map of the Commonwealth, sites neatly noted with names – and a stack of papers and reports.

“Huh?”

“I guess I tend to idealize people. See them for how I want them to be, and not how they really are.” He wouldn’t look at me. “You showed up at that museum, cleared out the raiders, helped us get here to Sanctuary – and maybe I put you on a pedestal.”

I felt some of my annoyance fade as I took a moment before saying, “I’m not a hero Preston, just someone trying to do a little bit of good in a fucked up world. I don’t judge, and I sure as hell ain’t riding the high horse of morality you seem to sit on. I’m not going to apologize for failing to live up your expectations.”

“You don’t have to…it’s just…” He trailed off, voice thick with unspoken emotions.

 _Oh shit._ Suddenly things clicked into place. I’d shown up, cleared out ghouls and raiders to get to him, donned a power armor and killed a deathclaw, then led them to Sanctuary and proceeded to start helping nearby settlements that Preston had never been able to do. _I’m no hero, but that sure looks like one from where he’s standing._ Then I’d brushed him off – left him with the mundane work. Preston was a good person, but just…too strict for me. He’d made me feel like I was some sort of savior of the Commonwealth, and I’d run from that. _Of course he’s upset when the idol he hopes will save the Commonwealth falls in love with someone else – someone he doesn’t like._

“Look, I know it’s easy to solve problems with violence, but we’ve gotten show people there’s a better way. I’m just asking you to think about the consequences of your actions and how they affect people. I don’t expect you to be a saint. But we’ve got a responsibility to inspire people to help themselves – to set an example.” Preston finally lifted his gaze from the table. There was more he wanted to say written on his face, but he was quiet.

“You make sound like I’ve been torturing settlers and laughing as the Commonwealth burns. I know I had a rough start the first few months, but I’ve done some damn good work here. You’ve got half a dozen settlements armed and farming and full of people who support the Minutemen. But apparently the only thing that matters to you is who’s in my bed?” I shook my head. “I’m tired of fighting with you Preston. You fucking owe me. Get over it, or take the General position.”

He said nothing, so I left, putting a little bit of a slam on the door in childish frustration.

I found John with Mama Murphy. The old lady was a chem addict, and claimed to have visions of the future. The one I’d heard had been decent advice, so maybe it was true – I didn’t put much thought into it. They were laughing at something as I walked in to the building.

I greeted the old woman with a hug, then glanced at John – frustration in my eyes. “We’re gunna hit the road.”

“Got more settlers in trouble?” John dropped his cigarette butt and rubbed it out. The slight arch to his brow, and a glint in dark eyes said he knew that Preston and I had not been talking about Minutemen strategy.

“Something like that. Let’s go.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Walking through the ruins of Boston, Hancock stepped up beside me.

“Don’t look, but we have some fans.”

I glanced over at him. “How do you know?”

A scratchy chuckle, “Better senses are the secondary benefit after near immortality and the ravishing good looks that serum gave me.”

We kept walking, never changing pace. “Probably from Diamond city, keeping tabs on us.” We were skirting the edges of the city on our way to do some odd jobs for the Railroad before stopping in Good neighbor to restock. It’d been a while since I’d dropped in Sanctuary – not ready yet to deal with Preston.

“Probably.”

“Got any ideas?”

“Mmm, got one.”

“One that doesn’t involve beating Diamond city guards senseless and getting us permanently banned?” I was sure they hadn't forgotten the last time I'd threatened them with war if they didn't let us in.

Another chuckle as he flicked the butt of cigarette onto the ground. “Alright, got two then. Just roll with it.”

We rounded a street corner as we headed Northwest, planning to head back to Sanctuary. As we did, I was shoved against the wall immediately. John leaned against the wall with one hand just to the side of my head, the other slid into my jacket and onto my hip.

“This is your plan?” I gave him a skeptical look. “Or just an excuse to kiss me?”

“Both.” He leaned in, building up with a few tiny kisses along my jaw before his thin lips met mine.

I undid the buttons on his jacket as we continued to kiss, eventually sliding my hands inside his coat. He trailed down the side of my neck, occasionally biting gently. As he kissed his way back up my neck a soft moan escaped my lips.

I laughed, low and throaty, as I undid the first few buttons of the faded white dress shirt he wore. “If those guards don’t come around soon, they’ll get more of a show than you bargained for.”

John laughed “Is that a problem doll?” He pulled back for a moment, hairless brow arched with the question.

“Not at all.” A mischievous smile danced on my lips as I slid my hands inside his shirt.

He shivered – my hands were cold. It had been chilly the last few days, and I didn’t have gloves. “Damnit woman” he growled, making me laugh again. I traced the curves and waves of his scarred and wrinkled skin, enjoying the texture. We kissed again, just as I heard the sound of slow footsteps and the rustle of leather armor coming around the corner.

“Oh. Ah. Ahem.” The Diamond City guard in front stopped short, and the second one slammed into him from behind with a curse. They both stumbled and stared, confusion and embarrassment lighting up their faces, which then flickered into to disgust.

The guard in front cleared his throat, loudly. Only then did John slowly pull back, keeping on hand on my waist and the other on the wall beside me. Those dark eyes glittered dangerously as he slowly looked over to the guards. _He’s got style when it comes to messing with people’s expectations._

“Yes?” I said, sliding my gaze over to the guard with a coy look.

“Ma’am. Um.” He floundered, looking for an excuse. The guard behind him turned green clasping his hand to his mouth. “Is this…corpse…bothering you?” He finally managed to stammer out.

I smirked, then leaned in towards Hancock. Both hands slid up from his chest to his neck, pulling him towards me for a lengthy passionate kiss. I gently bit his lower lip as we pulled apart. “Oh, he’s _bothering_ me, but not in the way you mean.” I laughed.

The second guard turned, and vomited all over the road. I laughed. Had to give the first guard credit though, because he looked like he wanted to join his partner, but he didn’t. He stammered out “Well, alright then. We were just making sure. Um, good day.” Grabbing his partner by the elbow, he led him off back around the corner they had come around.

“Bigoted assholes.” I muttered as they disappeared from sight, shaking my head. Turning back to John I tilted my head with a smile. “Nice plan though.”

He pressed me against the wall with a grin, his arousal clear. “You doubted me?”

“Never.” I glanced down the deserted road. “This is a terrible idea.”

He said nothing, instead kissing me. By the time he pulled back his nimble fingers had undone the buckles of my armored chest piece, and it fell away.

“A really bad idea.” I grinned, feeling my adrenaline rise with a jolt of fear at a few ‘what ifs’ that crossed my mind. The city wasn’t safe – there could be raiders, gunners, or mutants showing up at any moment. _This is ridiculous._

“You ain’t stopping me love.” A wicked grin light his craggy features.

“You’re right, I’m not.” I slid my hands down his chest to his belt, giving a tug before unbuckling it. “You _are_ a bad influence.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

The vertibird had flown low over Good Neighbor as MacCready and I walked in. The loud hum of its engines changed pitch not far away, and the breeze it stirred in its wake had everyone looking up.

“Damnit.” Brotherhood nearby were bad news. MacCready and I were just back from a personal job of his – an old hospital he had hoped would have a medicine for his son. It had been near a settlement Preston wanted me to go check on, so I’d taken Mac and John had headed to Good Neighbor to check up. We had found the drug, and he was giving it to Daisy who knew caravans who would get it to the Capital Wasteland.

John and I geared up, and headed in the direction of the Brotherhoods flying patrol. We came up to the intersection where the craft had set down. A power armor clad member of the Brotherhood leveled his laser rifle at us as we approached. “Identify yourself civilian” barked the order.

I rolled my eyes. We both held up our hands open-palms forward, but low at our waist in a mockery of the submissive gesture. “Ain’t you boys a little far from home?” I called as we continued to stroll forwards. There had been more and more of their patrols showing up – or the same ones making larger routes. Either way, it bode poorly for the Common Wealth.

“Identify yourself!” The suit made his voice tinny and it crackled with static.

“Bric, General of the Minute Men.” _At least until Preston tells me otherwise._ I said as I came to a stop a few steps away from power suit. I pronounced my name with a hard ‘c’ at the end.

“John Hancock, Mayor of Good Neighbor.” He rasped beside me, flicking the ashes from his cigarette at the metal suit. “You boys are mighty close to my town. What is it you’re doing here?”

The Brotherhood soldier ignored him. “Ma’am you need to move along.” He kept his rifle aimed at Hancock.

I chuckled. “It’s a public street ain’t it? You need to respond to my friend here.” My hands dropped to rest upon the butt of my pistol and sword and I took a step forwards.

“Ma’am I am not speaking to that…thing…I am speaking to you. And you need to move along civilian.”

My brow arched and I stepped forwards. I hated power suits – not because they were difficult to kill, which they were, but because they made it impossible to get a read on the person inside. “I’m not afraid of your shiny little suit, so I’ll ask only once more: what are you boys doing here?” I had pulled my pistol and tapped the lower torso of his suit with its end, before jamming it into the soft joint in the suit.

“Her trigger finger’s a bit twitchy, you might watch those jewels of yours.” Hancock chuckled behind me, flicking the butt of his smoke at the power suit’s face mask.

“Stand down soldier!” The voice boomed from the end of the vertibird. The member I was in front of stepped back from me, lowering his weapon.

“Sir yes sir!” he barked as he took another step back and with a click, turned on the laser rifle’s safety.

The second Brotherhood member came around from the nose end of the aircraft. The power suit thumped and thudded with every step. They were great protection, but the noise and the smell of grease drove me nuts. “Finish checking our supplies soldier.” He ordered the first one off.

 _Damnit I know that voice_. Despite hearing it through the speakers of the power suit, I had heard it before. I slipped the safety on my 10 mm and holstered it.

“It’s General now I hear is it not?” He said, before reaching up and taking off the power suit helmet with a few clicks and pops as the seal broke.

“Paladin Danse.” I inclined my head slightly. “Good to see you’re not as interested in starting a war with the Minute Men and Good Neighbor as your subordinate is.”

“He was following orders. Our work is not civilian business.”

“C’mon tin soldier, you’re on my doorstep. It ain’t polite not to chat.” Hancock’s hands rested casually on his shot gun.

“How disappointing.” Dance looked down at me – I wasn’t short, but he was tall, and the power armor added a few more inches. His dark hair was crew cut like a typical military man, with strong square jawline and brown eyes. I guess he was cute, in the traditional football quarterback kinda way.

“Excuse me?”

“Disappointing. I’d heard rumors the new general of the Minute men was…romantically involved…with a ghoul.” He shook his head with disgust. “I had expected better of you, Bric, than necrophilia.” He still hadn’t so much as glanced at Hancock.

“Wow, green is a bad color on you Dansey. Envy’s just not becoming.” My voice dripped with venomous sarcasm.

“I think you mistake the green of disgust.” Danse responded evenly.

“Nah I know your type. It must burn you that I told no repeatedly, then go and shack up with the kinda guy you hate. I bet that just digs at your pride.” I put as much cocky attitude as I could muster into my words – which was a lot, given who I ran with these days.

“You are sick. That _thing_ is not a man.” Heavy disgust laced his words.

I stepped up in front of his suit, slinging my laser rifle off my back. “Go on and say that again Danse, this time with a little less jealousy in your voice. And I’ll shove Righteous Authority in that mouth of yours and remove those pearly whites.”

“Stand down General.” Danse growled, features tense.

I kept the rifle low, never having raised it. “Just answer the damn questions without being an insulting prick about it Danse.” I kept my eyes on his, glaring.

“We are scouting the area per standard Brotherhood of Steel protocol. Now,” he stepped back, pistons hissing with the movement, “we have a schedule to keep.” He turned around and walked off without a goodbye.

As soon as he turned, Hancock burst out laughing. He nearly doubled over, slapping his leg in a fit of laughter. The Brotherhood scribe shot him a glance.

I turned back to him and couldn’t help but grin myself as I returned the rifle to my back.

“Damn woman!”

We started to walk back to Good Neighbor, backs to the vertibird. “The best part is this rifle –“ I patted it’s stock over my shoulder –“was his. He gave it to me.”

This brought on a second round of laughter shared between us both. John grabbed my hand, pulling me towards him and into a kiss in one fluid motion. “You really are my kinda trouble.”

I laughed. “Your kinda trouble is nearly starting a war with the Brotherhood? I’m not surprised.”

At the end of the street, we stopped and waited. Once we’d seen the vertibird leave and Danse’s group headed north, we finally headed to town.

“How do you know him anyways?” Another cigarette tossed aside, burned down to a stub.

“I helped him out once. Not long after crawling out of the vault. I didn’t know a damn thing about the Brotherhood at the time. First he hit on me, then he tried to recruit me. I said no because I didn’t know enough to feel comfortable joining. He asked a few more times in that first month. Before I found Nick, and you.”

“You turned down the Brotherhood? Damn.”

“Turns out they’re jackasses anyways, so it worked out.” I shrugged. “Keeping the gun though.”

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Losing faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have been going to well, but that never lasts in the Commonwealth. When Hancock goes missing, Bric sets out to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene really should have gone in the last chapter, but it was a last minute wrote-it-this-morning addition, so it went here.
> 
> I really can't believe I've hit 60k words in about 2.5 weeks. I missed my NaNoWriMo goal after writing every.single.damn.day in november by 2000 words. But here I am with this fanfic breaking my own records. 
> 
> I have been adoring the comments lately, thank you all so so much! It really makes my day to get such great feedback.  
> And Happy New Year y'all!

“You can’t surprise me.”

A bright and mischievous grin lit my face as I shot back “Challenge accepted!”

John and I walked into Good Neighbor. We were in the area, and I wanted an actual bed for a night. And food that wasn’t out of a can. It was impromptu. 

A amused expression crossed his face, a spark in dark eyes that only solidified my resolve to do something unusual.

“I’ll see you at the Third Rail at 7 PM.” I started to cross the small square towards Daisy’s Discounts.

“Where are you going?” John spoke around the cigarette that he’d pulled out and was holding in his lips as he lit it.

“I have a few things to do. You’ll see!” And with cocky laugh I was gone.

“Hey Daisy? You know that dress I sold you a while back?” I strolled into her store. I was betting it hadn’t sold – it had been a sequined and sparkling black cocktail dress, which was relatively useless in the Wasteland except as a nostalgic piece. Maybe there were women in Diamond city who would wear it and never had to worry about accessorizing around their weapons.

“That slinky black number? Yeah – what abo-“ Her black eyes went wide with surprise. “Oh! Who is he?”

“What? I didn’t say –“

“You don’t have to dear, you’re virtually glowing. And not a radiation oh-god-where’s-the-radaway kinda glow.” Daisy’s voice was a harsh rasp but cheerful as she came around her counter, grabbing my arm and dragging me back to the stockroom. “I still got that dress, but you gotta spill it!”

Laughing I followed my friend. I imagined Daisy had been a pretty fantastic parent and grandparent back before the war – she’d been 60 when the bombs fell – and I had grown to love her dearly. “I don’t know if you’re going to approve.”

She turned the lights on in the stockroom, eyes wide as she looked at me again. “That depends if it’s just a romp in the sheets or something more hun. So c’mon –who is it?”

I licked my lips slowly, considering the best title to use. “Your illustrious Mayor.” Is what I finally said with an arched brow – I figured she had to know but was making me say it.

“Oh girl, I know he’s a suave devil who could charm the habit off a nun but I woulda thought you were smarter than that.” But Daisy’s smile said she was happy for me regardless of her concerns. “Oh who am I kidding? I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you when you two are here. Surprised it took this long.” Daisy called every man a boy – despite any age, and it made me grin. By my best estimate John was some 15 years my senior anyways – not that it mattered a damn bit out here.

“Ah-ha!” She came up out of a box with the dress in question. “Still surprised this held up this well.”

I laughed, “Amazing what things seem to have survived the years.” I took it from her, and held it up. I peeked at the tag and wrinkled my nose – a size 14. I wasn’t sure it’d fit, but Daisy insisted I give it a try. She continued hunting through a few other boxes, coming out with a red dress that was a little too similar to Magnolia’s as a back up.

The dress was snug, but to my surprise it fit. “Guess the Wastelands are the ultimate diet and exercise plan.” I mused staring into a piece of broken mirror.

Daisy came back down from upstairs and gasped. “Oh Bricelyn, you look so lovely. Here –“ She handed me a small box.

I took it with a questioning look. “What is it?” I started to open it and found a pretty pair of silver and cream colored pumps. “Oh wow – where are these from?” I bent down to try them on.

“My wedding.”

“Oh! I stood up quickly, almost losing my balance. Daisy caught me and I clutched her shoulder with a laugh. “I was never one for heels.” I steadied myself, and took my hand back. “I can’t take these though.”

“Nonsense. They’re a memento – shocked they’re still holding together. They ought to be worn.” Daisy smiled at me, and I gave her a hug.

“Thanks.”

“Now, let’s finish that look.” Daisy grinned.

 ----

Ham let out a long low whistle of appreciation as I walked into the Third Rail. The suit wearing ghoul was the bar’s bouncer, and though I didn’t know him well, he seemed like a decent guy.

“Damn, ain’t every day we get a real classy lady stoppin’ by.” He grinned. “What’s the occasion?”

I laughed, and it settled a few of the butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t honestly remember the last time I’d gotten black-tie level dressed up. Maybe my cousins wedding a few years before I moved back to Boston. I was a little self-aware and unsure in the heels, the silver scarf from the silver shroud costume draped across my bare shoulders. It’d been convenient and matched the touch of silver in Daisy’s old shoes.

“Thanks Ham. Hoping to win a bet.” I said, fidgeting with the edge of my dress.

A hairless brow shot up under his hat with a grin. “With the boss? Oh, I think you will.” He gestured towards the stairs with a sweeping bow of formality that made me smile. “Go on in.”

I felt like I was heading into my prom – carefully stepping to make sure I didn’t trip, and feeling awkwardly done up. At the bottom of the steps to old T-stop I paused and took a deep breath.

_This is ridiculous._ I thought. _But it had better be worth it for the look on his face._ Daisy had dragged Magnolia over with her makeup, and they’d done a fantastic job. Mascara, liner, blush, eye shadow – I’d forgotten the magic of make-up.

I stepped into the bar, heels coming to a clicking stop on the tiles. I could also feel the entire room freeze and turn to me, and my cheeks brightened with a deep and slightly embarrassed blush. _Over dressed in an understatement._

John had been languidly and lazily leaning on the bar, propped on an elbow as he chatted with one of his citizens. With everyone else, he turned as I came in. The cigarette that had been held in thin lips fell as his mouth dropped open in surprise. His eyes widened – first with surprise, then with an appreciative look of awe that held a spark of lust. I kept my eyes on him, trying to ignore the stares of the rest of the room.

With feline grace he stood up and stalked across the room. The pure desire that danced in his eyes sent a shiver up my spine. I couldn’t remember ever being looked like that before, and it made my ego flare.

As he got near I grinned. “I think I wi-eee!” The last word turned into a shriek of surprise as he swept me over in a deep bend with one fluid motion. I was standing, and then I was almost horizontal, wrapped up in his arms. I started to laugh, but was cut short by a kiss. A kiss that lingered, bordering on inappropriate for a public place, until I was standing up again.

When we finally stepped apart I couldn’t keep a smile from my face – and my cheeks were flushed.

“win.” I finished the sentence with as much a smirk as I could muster.

John laughed – that rich gravelly sound I adored. “You do. I should have known better.” His hands were still in my waist and I could feel their warmth through the thin dress. “You look amazing love. Stunning. I never expected a pin-up girl to come sauntering into my bar. Words don’t do it justice.”

I wasn’t sure my cheeks could get any redder, and John only grinned more at it. _Oh how college me would be shocked to know this was my_ _future._ I became keenly away of the stares still upon us. I squirmed under the looks, and had the suddenly urge to crawl into John’s jacket and hide there.

“Oh let ‘em stare.” He rumbled with a chuckle. And they were – the men jealous of their Mayor, the women jealous of me. “C’mon.” John took my hand led me to a small table in the back corner of the room, already set with silverware, a bright candle, and a pair of drinks.

_We’re going to be the biggest gossip talk in the Commonwealth_ , I realized. By tomorrow morning anyone who didn’t know about the Mayor of Good Neighbor’s new squeeze most certainly would.

John handed me a glass – of the good bourbon from his personal stockpile – with a grin. Clicking his own against mine he said “To surprises.”

 

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Preston had sent Hancock on a mission alone. I had expected better than petty jealousy, but some things don’t change. The roads to the jewel of the commonwealth were mostly clear these days, so the only risky part was beyond there. It seemed easy enough – the settlement was only requesting help with some ghouls in the area.

We’d set up a series of communication towers at settlements, allowing for radio communications as long as radstorms weren’t in the area. The portable radios Sturgis had built ate batteries however, so protocol was twice daily check ins- morning and evening. On the third night there was only silence, as I sat at the communications relay for my shift. John failed to check in.

My shift ended and I went to my small house to start packing supplies. Preston knocked on my door a few minute after I’d stepped inside myself.

“You know protocol is to wait until two missed check ins.”

“I know.” I didn’t stop shoving stimpacs and other supplies into the pockets of my backpack as I collected them from the shelves built into the wall.  

“So there’s a few more hours before there’s any reason for concern.”

“Mmm.” Last in went a few extra grenades, and I closed up the bag. I grabbed my belt off the table, buckled it on and started attaching my weapons. Three fragmentation grenades, snugged into holders, two pistols strapped on my right thigh – a 10 mm and a .44 – and a short barreled shot gun strapped along the length of my left thigh.

“What’s the point of protocol if our General doesn’t follow it?” Annoyance permeated Preston’s tone as he watched me preparing for travel.

“I’ll wait until noon, then I’m heading out.” I glared at him. “That’s protocol enough.” I slid a dagger into my boot. I reached for a second belt, one which held a sheathed sword, and started to strap it across my waist. There was meticulous order to my preparations. Going through the motions I ticked off each item in my mind’s check list, and I felt my nerves calming with the routine. _I’m just as dangerous as anything in the Wasteland._ Maybe more these days.

“Damnit Bric. Rules exist for a reason. You’re supposed to be an example – for all the settlers AND the Minute men.” Preston stepped closer and grabbed my backpack as I reached for it. “You can’t go risking your life for one person – who knew what he was doing! We need you here.”

The venomous look I gave him made Preston take a step back from me. My hand was unconsciously on my pistol, and he looked at me as though seeing someone new.

“I know you don’t like John. I know your feelings on ghouls Preston. And I know damn well why you don’t think I should go after him. If that was anyone else out there you wouldn’t be here.” I shook my head. “I guess I’m not the only one disappointed in other people around here.”

“That is NOT it. We have protocol for a reason – this is the Wasteland, people die. We can’t defend what we have if we run off chasing every problem. We need you here. At least until MacCready and Cait get back.”

“They’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. You’ll live for a day.”

“Damnit Bric, what kind of example are you setting? The General runs off on a personal mission to save one fuckin gh-“ He stumbled, catching himself and taking a deep breath. “Damnit it we need you here.”

“Quite frankly Preston I don’t give a shit if you ‘need me’ here or not. I’m not some figure head you can puppet around to rally your cause. I help people. That’s what I do. I’m not a politician or leader. I’m just a woman who’s gotten damn good with a gun and is tired of seeing jackasses who make things hard for everybody else.” I grabbed my bag from him. “Sanctuary is bristling with defenses, you’ll be fine for one day. And the offer to take the title of General still stands if you think so poorly of my decisions.”

I stormed past him into an overcast day and whistled for Dogmeat. He came bounding from whatever trouble he was getting into and heeled beside me as we headed for the bridge.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

A recent radstorm had blown away the trail. Dogmeat whined sadly with disappointment

“It’s alight boy, we’ll find him.” I rubbed his head, and kept walking. Once this trip had filled my gut with fear, but now it felt freeing to be on the road again. It wasn’t my first time traveling alone – or rather, with only a canine companion. On my own, I made good time.

I struggled to keep my worries in check. There were a lot of ways to die in the wasteland. _Damnit John where are you?_ I tried to keep to the most likely route he would have taken to the settlement requesting help.

I stopped at the old Boston police rationing site and crashed for the night. The small settlement that had gotten word to Preston was near the old Fairline Estates. It was new, and in a dangerous area. Sleep was elusive, and when I did I had nightmares. Dogmeat’s warm fur against my side was the one thing that kept me feeling sane.

Once the city ended and the hills began again, I knew I was close. By mid-afternoon on the fourth day, I saw an old farm house in the distance.

Then I came upon the first corpse. Or what was left of one anyways. It had been gnawed on. The hair along Dogmeat’s spine stood up and he growled, crouching low. We approached slowly, keeping low. Next I came across the corpse of a feral ghoul. Then a damaged wooden fence, behind which were struggling crops – still alive and a few tato plants were bearing fruit.

I heard them before I saw them – the wet noises of chewing tearing flesh. Grunts and growls and guttural noises as they ate the dead settlers.

I brought up the Vault-tech assistant targeting system on my Pipboy, and unholstered my pistol quietly. A few key strokes and it synced up and had selected targets. As I came up over the fence, I pulled the trigger in rapid success, emptying the entire clip into the 3 ghouls that were there. They all hit the ground dead. Dogmeat prowled forwards, double checking.

The house was empty. I found a few more ghoul corpses, and two more dead settlers. I traced back around the property again, heart heavy. Dogmeat started to growl, then dashed ahead into some shrubs. The low dangerous growl changed into a pleading whine.

“What is it boy?” I hurried after him. In the shrubs was a woman. Her lips were dry and cracked. Dried blood covered her torso and had darkened into a black pool around her. I pulled out a can of water, opening it with a hiss and pouring some into her mouth after kneeling beside her. She made some croaking noises. “Shh. Don’t.” I sat back on my knees and assessed her situation – leg bent at an unnatural angle, a deep wound in her gut – wide enough that her intestines had spilled from it. More than any stimpac could begin to heal.

She couldn’t have been here more than a day. _I was just barely too late. If John had made it…_  I pushed the thought from my mind. If he was alive, I’d rip him a new one. _If he’s alive…_ I swallowed hard. _Focus damnit._

“Mmmmmy…kids…” The settler lifted a hand and pointed.

“Did they run in that direction?” My eyes went wide as I felt a jolt of fear hit me. _Kids fleeing, alone, out here?_ They had headed south – and things got progressively more dangerous the farther south you went.

She nodded a tiny bit. “P-p-please.”

I stood up to leave, but stopped. She was dying a slow and painful death – how the ghouls had missed her I couldn’t guess. _Just luck – bad or good I’m not sure which._ _I can’t leave her here._ But I couldn’t help either. Except…my gut twisted with the thought. I licked my lips, swallowing hard, and took a deep breath.

I slowly drew my sword from my hip. My stomach turned with what I was considering doing, and I tasted bile. _It’s a mercy._ I told myself that, over and over in a mantra.

The settler’s eyes went wide – but not with fear. She nodded. “P-p-please.” _She knows what prowls out here. There are worse ways to die._

I nodded. “I am so, so sorry.” I moved quickly, before I lost my own nerve, and drove the sword through her heart. She gasped out, and went still. I stood for several long minutes staring at her now-glassy eyes. _I wish I could have saved you._ Silent tears stream down my cheeks and I wiped them away. I felt sick to my stomach, a numbness creeping up my spine as I tried to deal with what I had done.

_I killed her. It was a mercy. But I killed her._

I wiped off the blade and sheathed it, and pulled out my rifle. I shoved down my horror and steeled myself for what was to come. “Let’s go find ‘em boy.” Dogmeat gave a soft bark, and put his nose to the ground.

We walked for hours, and as dusk settled over the Common wealth, we slowly climbing a hill. At the top I dropped to a knee as dogmeat began to growl. I could hear the low rumbling of loud voices. We crept closer, staying amongst shrubs as we neared the glowing light of a fire. Large shapes, black in the growing darkness, moved about a clearing.

We were downwind, and I smelled cooking meat and the iron tang of blood. _Oh god._ My stomach flipped and I double over, threatening to throw up as I put the pieces together. _Super mutants. Cooking human flesh._ A wave of disgust washed over me, making my break out in a sweat. It was followed with pure rage.

I slid my rifle off my back and looked through the scope. Six super mutants. It was stupid to attack, but the thought of walking away never crossed my mind. I plotted my attack, quietly pulling out chems from my bag, then setting it aside against the tree I was using for cover. Mentats for the mental acuity. Buffout for strength. One pill, then the next into my mouth, followed by a quick swig of water. Half a vial of med-x to calm my nerves. Lastly I raised the inhaler of jet to my mouth and took a deep breath.

I sighted down my rifle. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, and squeezed the trigger at the end of my exhale. The bullet found its mark, one green skinned head exploding. _Five left._ The mutants roared and leapt up, but the surprise shot was difficult to track back to me. I felt my pulse racing, sweat beading on my forehead. My hands didn’t shake thanks to the chems, and time moved at a crawl from jet.

I sighted again, but the mutants were moving. Not risking missing a headshot, I pulled the trigger and nailed the large mutant in the chest. I dropped the rifle, pulled a grenade from my belt and removed its pin in one fluid motion and tossed into the group.

I counted down the seconds until it exploded, looking away to avoid being blinded by the flash. It didn’t kill any mutants, but it sent them sprawling and injured by shrapnel. It bought me time.

“Go boy go!” Dogmeat growled and leapt out from his spot a few feet away from me. He raced for the mutant I’d shot second, leaping onto him and biting his throat with a sickening squelch of wet flesh tearing and a low dangerous growl. _Four left._

They charged towards me. Chem fueled focus and impotent rage kept me from screaming in fear at the sight of four angry super mutants charging towards me. I watched it all in the slowed down time lapse of jet-fueled sight. From behind them Dogmeat growled and lunged at one, grabbing his leg and tripping him up. I tore my shotgun from my thigh, dropping to one knee and aiming at the closest mutant. I pulled the trigger, bracing to minimize the recoil as it bucked.

The lead mutant stumbled back from the blow. I spun and pulled the trigger again at the next closest mutant. He too stumbled back from the buckshot.

I didn’t waste time reloading, dropping the shotgun and pulling out my trusty little 10mm pistol. The jet wore off, and suddenly the world spun back into regular speed. I stumbled as I punched the buttons on my Pipboy to active its targeting system. I squeezed the trigger in rapid succession emptying the entire clip with the Pipboy’s help into the skulls and chests of the two mutants I’d already hit. They went down under the barrage.

Two left. The pistol fell by the way side, I wasn’t going to risk reloading. I pulled my sword with a hiss. _You might actually pull this off!_ I moved towards the mutant Dogmeat had tripped and was grappling with.

Stepping forwards from the shrubs I suddenly saw stars and felt a sharp pain in my head.

The last supermutant chuckled. “Puny humans!” I dropped to my knees, vision tunneling as I tasted blood. I blinked rapidly, blood and sweat stinging my one eye. _A board to the head will do that you idiot._ He raised the board to swing again.

I twisted around, bringing up the sword and driving it up and under his ribcage. It plunged in and I saw the mutants beady eyes go wide. His body froze up, and gravity took over. He fell atop me, and I screamed as I felt the cracking of a few ribs from the impact even through the med-x haze.

Struggling to get free of the corpse, I let go of the sword that was embedded in it. Wriggling and pushing made my vision spin and dance with stars from pain. I heard movement and a yelp of pain from Dogmeat.

The mutant he had taken down was up again, and I didn’t see my furry friend. _No, no, NO!_ Under the corpse I fumbled for my .44 as the mutant approached. His deep rumbling chuckle echoed across the hill.

“Silly bleeder.” He raised a wood board studded with nails and started to bring it down.

I finally pulled my pistol free and brought it up firing wildly. Kellogg’s trusty old gun brought the mutant down and left my ears ringing. The mutant fell atop the first one, but thankfully his body slid off the pile.

I lay beneath the corpses, heart racing. It was many minutes before I finally started to wriggle free, slowly but surely and painfully getting free. When I stood up I took a deep gasping breath, muscles trembling with exhaustion.

“Dogmeat!” Nothing. “DOGMEAT!” A faint whimpering whine. I found my bag, and then my dog. He was bleeding and cut and favoring his front paw. I jammed the stim into his haunch and hoped it’d be enough. I wanted to throw up, to pass out, but I couldn’t. Kneeling beside Dogmeat I wasn’t sure I could even get up again. _I can’t do this. I…_ I threw my arms around Dogmeat and buried my face in the warm fur of his neck. He was spotted with blood and dirt and smelled like a dog. But I sobbed into the dog’s fur and he whined quietly with worry.

I could still smell the cooking flesh. Children’s flesh.

With trembling hands I dug in my bag for more chems and drugged up. I stood slowly, shoulders my bag and wincing. I headed back to the ruins farmhouse.

There were bodies to bury, and I needed a shovel.

 

 

 


	16. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there a cure for a broken heart in the bottom of an empty bottle - or an empty inhaler of jet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing obsessed, and wanting to post more of this though I am not quite done with the story yet. I'm about 95% happy with the chapter, but having reread and rewritten it so many time I think it's ok.
> 
> There's some extra comments on the bottom about Hancock and the source of this story line.

Nick and I stood in front of the flickering neon sign of the Memory Den. It’s hot red colors light up the area, turning my skin a funny shade of pink.

“You sure you want me there for this?” Nick said as he took the last drag from his cigarette and glanced sideways at me.

“Yeah. I am.” _No I’m not, but I might kill him if I’m alone._

I didn’t remember the trip to Diamond city, it was lost in a blurry haze of chems and pain. I did remember the look on Nick’s face when I stumbled into his office, and he caught me before I hit the floor. It was of shock, horror, and concern – I must have looked even worse than I felt. I took inventory and found a black eye, split cheek, dislocated shoulder, and multiple fractured ribs. I wished stimpacs did more for bruises and bones. I’d also been covered in dirt and mud and stank to high heaven from digging graves for over a day.

He’d put Ellie in charge of making me stay in bed for a day while he did some sleuthing. Nick finally admitted he had done this before – making regular trips to fetch and return Diamond city’s biggest playboy and junkie many years ago. So he a few ideas of where Hancock might go. He turned up a guard who said he had heard of a loud argument in the Mayor’s office days ago – around the time Hancock had stopped radioing in to Sanctuary. _Why would he go talk to his brother?_

The trail brought us to the Memory Den in Good Neighbor. My gut roiled with a ball of worry and anger. _You should have known what you were getting into._ I chided myself. Nick had said nothing the entire time.

Inside Irma waved from her recliner. “Nicky! You finally comin’ back for a recreational visit?” She purred as she stood up.

“’Fraid not dear. Here on business as usual.”

She sighed melodramatically. “One day I’ll see some of those memories.”

“I imagine you know who we might be lookin’ for, so if you can tell me which of the private rooms he’s in, I’d appreciate it.”

Irma slid her gaze to me, giving me a once over. “Well you sure have risen to the occasion of the Wastelands from the first time I saw you.” I bristled with weapons and self-improved armor these days. A year and a half was a long time when every day was life or death. I imagined I looked more dangerous with my blood shot eye in the deep purple and yellow bruising that covered half my face. “I’d love to get into those pre-war memories you’ve got locked up in there.” She pointed at my temple. “People would pay a pretty penny to relive some real good old fashion “old days” you know.”

“I try to focus on the present Irma, ain’t no point in living in the past.” I shifted my weight anxiously. “Is he here?”

She nodded, pointing towards Kent’s old room. “I didn’t want to, but business continues – I had to clear out Kent’s old stuff” She said sadly. “But that pod has extra safety features on it, I always had to make sure Kent didn’t stay in there forever.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Didn’t want ‘im going feral y’know?” She glanced at a pocket watch on the table, “He’s been here for about three days.”

“Thanks.” I shared a glance with Nick. That left almost a week of time unaccounted for.

He put his skeletal metal hand on the doorknob and paused, raising yellow eyes filled with concern to me. “You ready for this kiddo?”

I shook my head, fist clenched to keep it from trembling. “No. But do it anyways.”

 

The room was about as bad as I had expected. Chems and drug paraphernalia littered the floor around the single memory pod. Most were empty. I identified the containers of Med-X, Jet, and tins of Mentats, and a few others more custom-brewed concoctions. There were bottles of liquor, and sticky shiny spilled puddles of it everywhere. A small table in arms reach of the pod contained what I assumed were the last few full drugs.

In the pod was Hancock, red frock coat and hat included. I sighed. _I had hoped we were wrong._

Nick stepped gingerly around the discarded syringes with a wrinkle of disgust and concern on his face. He typed a few quick keystrokes into the computer that ran the pod. “It’ll take a few minutes to power down and release.”

I nodded. I’d only used these things once, and only because I had to. It had gotten us information from a dead man’s mind, and still gave me the creeps to think about. _Information I’ve been afraid to act on even now._ I crossed my arms over my chest and stood quietly, waiting until the memory pod finally gave a hissing pop and the clear lid rose up off of it.

“Damnit Irma I paid –“ Hancock shut up as his dark eyes rose up to meet mine. I saw the sudden darkening of guilt drawn over his radiation ravaged features. “Oh. Shit.”

“You’ve been missing for almost thirteen days John.” Nick said, drawing the ghoul’s dark eyes over to him.

“Damn. Really?” He shook head as if it would help clear his mind. “In here?”

“According to Irma three days.” I said quietly. Dark unfocused eye slid back to me when I spoke, narrowing again with a flash of guilt.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Lost track of time.” Hancock stood up, and started picking out the unused drugs from the table, shoving them into his coat pockets. “Look, Bric, I –“ He was clearly still high as a kite on a self-created cocktail of chems, he stopped midsentence, cocking his head as he finally actually looked at me, taking in my injuries. “Hey what happened?”

“Nothing.” I brushed it off. I was standing through sheer will and med-x, as I ached from head to toe. Med-x was the only reason breathing didn’t hurt. I hated using the stuff though, and kept to the minimum dosage possible. _Too bad it’s only for physical pain._ “Why didn’t you check on the Fairline estates farm?”

“I was gunna. Got a little side tracked. It was just a few ferals, they’re probably fine.”

“They’re not. They’re dead. They’re fucking dead because help came too late.” My hands balled into fists I kept clenched at my side. My heart hurt as I remembered the bodies. My shoulders were still sore from burying them in the hard packed dirt of the wasteland. “They got over run by ferals. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the two little kids who ran while their parents died. They ran into the Wasteland, and straight into super mutants. They never stood a chance. I found their little kid corpses partially eaten on the cooking fires. I buried them, and their families. Alone.” My voice trailed off to a rasp at the end, stolen by the memory, as hot tears trailed down my cheeks. I blinked them angrily away. _Another memory I’d give anything to erase – so much blood. So much death._ I swallowed down a ball of pain, struggling to reign in my emotions.

John Hancock stared at me, mouth slightly agape. Chem-addled he was slow to take in all I’d said, and when he did there was a flicker of guilt and sorrow. Just a flicker. _He’s on a shit-ton of med-x too I bet._ Fingers were twitching and toying with an unlit cigarette he’d fished from his coat pocket. His speechlessness didn’t last long. “Look I –“

“No” I cut him off quickly. “No sorry makes up for that. They’re dead. They might still be alive if you’d actually gone there like you said you would, instead of getting side tracked.” My voice was thick and heart heavy.

“Brice-“

I held up my hand, cutting him off again. I had started, and now I was going to finish. “No. I’ve spent the last two weeks imagining all the terrible fates that might befall a man in the Wasteland. I mean there’s the obvious like a Deathclaw, or a band of raiders, or super mutants. Then there’s the more creative avenues my mind wandered. Maybe the Brotherhood picked you up. Or an Institute patrol. Or maybe just a band of assholes who decided to give you a hard time. And in the back of my mind I knew that dead in a ditch somewhere, overdosed was always a possibility too. I knew falling in love in this fucked up world was a huge risk.” I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an effort to maintain control. “But for all the terrible reasons you might have failed those people, I never thought chems were going to be the reason.” By the time I was finished my knuckles were white from being clenched, and I was shaking. I licked my dry lips slowly, and added as a final jab, “I thought you weren’t going to stand by and watch anymore.”

Dark eyes had sparked at the word ‘love’ – something we hadn’t actually declared in the few months since Christmas. John looked away, shame darkening his features. “Hey now doll, look, I’m fine.” He started pacing in front of me. “No need to worry. I’ve been handling myself for a lot longer than you’ve been around the Commonwealth.”

“Handling yourself? That’s what this is?” I stepped around him, avoiding his hands as he sought to put them on my hips. I gestured to the dozens of empty chem containers and assorted paraphernalia. “Thought you said you weren’t running anymore.”

John staggered back a step as though physically slapped by the statement. “This ain’t running.”

“It’s not? Then what the hell is it?”

I didn’t get a response, as I heard a commotion out in the main room. Irma’s voice carried as she was trying to stop someone from entering. A woman my polar opposite – skinny, blonde, short – came prancing into the room, brushing off the Memory Den’s owner.

“Hey baby! I got more jet.” She dropped half a dozen inhalers into the open pod, then nearly pranced across the room, planting a kiss on Hancock’s cheek before she realized the room wasn’t empty. She looked at Hancock with a sort of blank confusion that told me she was high. “Who’re they?”

“Oh you have to be fucking kidding me.” I stumbled back a step, feeling as though I’d been punched in the gut. Nick was shaking his head in sad disbelief.

“Ah man, she the one you were talkin’ bout?” The clueless and extremely high girl was looking at me with some disgust. “What happened to yer face?”

I felt like I was going to be sick. I looked at John, in his red frock coat that glinted with the button’s I’d gotten him, cigarette twitching in his fingers. “So much for being your missing piece.” I meant for it to come out angry and harsh, but it was barely a whisper full of pain instead. My eyes burned with tears I fought to hold back as I headed for the door, suddenly afraid my legs might give out and I’d collapse into the little ball I desperately wanted to curl into.

“You ain’t one to talk with what I hear about you and MacCready.” Hancock suddenly remarked with venom.

“What?” I spun around, quickly enough it sent pain jolting through my injured ribs and I winced, reaching for the doorframe. Nick was there instantly, grabbing my arm with a murmured “Easy there kid.”

“You heard me toots. I hear you and the merc been closer than you let on what with that hospital job he asked you to help with and all.” Saying it out loud seemed to suddenly put pieces together for Hancock, he shifted to a defensive posture, folding his arms across his chest. “I stopped to talk to my brother. Thought he’d finally be proud of me y’know. But he said I was a fool if I thought any woman would put up with this mess, and this ugly mug. Told me he’d heard rumors. Guess he was right, maybe I am goin’ feral after all.”

I stared open mouthed at him in bewilderment. “You are a damn fool John McDonough.” I finally said, not caring who heard it or if his real identity was meant to remain a secret. “There is NOTHING going on with Mac and me. He’s your damn friend too!”

Leaving Nick I stormed towards him, letting my anger at his blame-shifting wash out the pain. “You’ve been waiting for me to leave since we started. You still think I’m going to wake up one morning and decide this was all a mistake?” I jabbed my pointer finger at his chest. “You go back in those godforsaken memory pods and watch again. I have never, not _once_ regretted us. I don’t know what I have to do to convince you I’m not just another bitch indulging her kink.”

My rant lost its steam, and I took a deep breath, fighting the warm tears that were swimming in my eyes. I took a step back from him. “The worst part is I can’t save you from yourself.” I stared into his dark eyes and saw a moment’s hesitation – a flash of guilt at the pain he saw in mine.

“I should have known better. I don’t know which hurts more – losing my best friend or the man I love.” I said quietly, feeling my heart break as I did. I spun and hurried out of the room.

I heard John saying “Bricelyn wait!” and Nick’s growled “Let her go John.” And then I was out of the Den, and on the street side.

The streetlights cast their warm glow, mingled with the neon colors of the shop signs. Leaning back against the closed door of the Den I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. _Is this how this ends?_ I slid to the ground, my legs refusing to let me stand any more.

“Hey sweetheart you ok?” I knew that scratchy chain-smoker voice. Daisy was the shop keep across from the entrance to town, fellow book lover, and beloved friend. She was sweet – and always asked me to return the books I bought back for her from the library. She said it was tradition. Daisy was a good woman, and good friend.

I nodded, eyes still closed.

“Oh I thought that fool ghoul might be making a mistake when I heard he had slipped back into town and straight into the Memory Den.” She dropped her cigarette and ground out the butt. “Some things don’t change dear, and men are always fools in any age. Ghoulification don’t make ‘em any smarter.” Her rough voice was full of sympathy.

I opened my eyes, wiping them each with a thumb. “I knew what I was getting into. Or I should have.”

“That don’t make it hurt any less honey.” Daisy touched my shoulder, offering a hand up. “Come on, I know the fix for an injured heart.”

Daisy lived above her store. She made us tea with a healthy dose of bourbon in it. After a few hours of talking, I finally fell asleep on her couch – first on her shoulder - exhausted and red-eyed from crying. I dreamt of the shadows playing on scarred skin, and dark eyes beneath a leather hat. _I got you, what else do I need?_

I slept poorly, and awoke at the crack of dawn. The alcohol and the med-x had worn off, leaving my ribs sore and laying on the couch painful. I left a note thanking Daisy, and slipped out the door, making mental note to grab her more books the next time I was by the library. _If I’m ever out this way again._

On the bench across the way was Nick. The synthetic detective didn’t need to sleep. He didn’t need to smoke either it was a hold over habit from the memories of the first Nick. I took seat on the bench beside him. My bag of supplies was on the ground beside his feet.

“I’m so sorry Bea.” He said after a minute. He’s picked up the nickname months back, after I’d told him my actual name. He placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

The simple friendly gesture was enough to knock to a huge hole in the dam I’d been trying to set up to keep my emotions blocked up. I blinked rapidly to clear the tears that sprang up.

“Hey now kiddo, that’s enough of that.” His synthflesh covered thumb swept a tear from my cheek.

“Damnit I was so worried Nick.” My fist balled up as that worry gave way to frustration and anger. “Am I terrible person if I almost wish he’d been hurt instead?” I thought of the butchered settlers, help arriving too late.

“Not at all Bea. You humans heal pretty well from physical injuries. It’s the ones in here –“ he dropped his hand to my heart, “That takes a lot longer, if they ever heal.”

We sat in silence for a little while, Nick’s hand resting atop mine on my thigh. He finally said “Y’know, it wasn’t you Bric. John’s always avoided his fears in chems and women. And his brother…well, they’ve got a history.” He patted my hand. “You can’t fix people that aren’t ready to be.”

I swallowed back a fresh wave of tears and nodded.

“I’m going to head back to Sanctuary, gear up, and finally find Virgil.” I said after a few more minutes of thoughtful silence. “I’ve been putting it off for months, but I’m not getting any more ready.”

“I’ll come with you. Radiation isn’t a problem for me.”

Pursing my lips I shook my head. “I…I think I want to be alone for a little while.” _Everything is falling apart._

Nick looked at me, yellow eyes filled with worry. “The glowing sea is no place for a solo traveler.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll take the power suit. Sturgis helped me upgrade it.”

Nick looked displeased, but he knew better than to argue. “Take care of yourself Bea. It’s going to be a dangerous.”

 

 

<i>No one knows me like you do  
And since you're the only one that matters  
Tell me who do I run to?</i>

~Adele

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big part of this entire story arc was influenced by some comments I read by a former addict, which voiced concerns with the FO4 fandom seeming to brush away Hancock's drug usage as just "happy fun drugs" and not considering the consequences or the reasons. That person remarked that addicts are never recreational - they do it to ease the pain, to hide.
> 
> I really like John as a character, because the story Bethesda's given him is very human - and it makes him more of a hero than most of the characters in FO4 I think. He's so very fallible, yet still holds himself to some very high standards for helping others. But when faced with fears - and his comments make it clear he doesn't think highly of himself - I imagine he'd run, because it's all he really knows.


	17. Running into trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock isn't the only one who runs from his problems. Bric just does it in power armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really can't thank everyone enough for the lovely comments on the last chapter. And for everyone I made cry I am so sorry! I wish I could say this chapter makes it better but...well...it's going to be a few chapters before things look up again.

**_The scars of your love remind me of us_ ** **_  
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all_ **

**_~Adele_ **

 

I slunk into Sanctuary, avoiding everyone who was there and staying only long enough to clean up and pack the power armor with meds and water and a spare bag of supplies. I left the next morning before dawn – while everyone was asleep – and left my general’s hat on Preston’s doorstep. _I quit Preston. I don’t want to lead anymore. It’s past time I get answers and figure out where I even belong anymore._

I stepped into the suit. Dogmeat whined at me.

“I’m sorry boy, but it’s not safe. You have to stay here.”

He laid down in his doghouse, sad eyes following me.

The suit moved effortlessly with me, but it felt awkward. _A shiny metal bubble suit._ Being separately from the environment left me feeling like a passenger in reality. I started the long walk south, one piston-aided step at a time.

Everything blended together. I began to appreciate why Brotherhood of Steel members felt superior and aloof from the rest of the world – the suit sort made me feel invincible. Rain, wind, it didn’t matter. It took me days to make it to the edge of the glowing sea, and days more wandering through the destroyed crater. I got lost – my pipboy fritzed a few times from radiation.

Lines from Kellogg’s thoughts kept running through my head in the hours spent alone. “ _The thing about happiness is that you only know you had it when it’s gone. I mean, you may think to yourself that you’re happy. But you don’t really believe it. You focus on the petty bullshit, or the next job, or whatever. It’s only looking back by comparison with what comes after that you really understand, that’s what happiness felt like._ ” And I thought of nights spent watching the stars or sharing a drink with John, chatting about everything and nothing. _It only took two hundred years to finally meet someone I can’t imagine life without._

Three and a half weeks after leaving Sanctuary I stumbled out of the glowing sea and into Somersett Farm. I was exhausted, out of supplies, and down to one last fusion core. My suit was damaged from two encounters deathclaws, and radiation had leaked in. My stomach turned and my head spun as I pressed the commands to exit the armor in front of the farm.

“Hold it ri’there. That is far enough.” Shouted an old man from behind the barrel of a shotgun.

I stumbled out of the suit, falling to my knees and throwing up. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand I sat back on my haunches and looked up at him.

“I don’t mean any trouble. Could use a hand.” The silver haired farmer seemed to take in my hollow-eyed appearance and lowered his gun.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He was interested, but defensive. The gun was lowered, but I saw his finger still lying alongside the trigger, ready in an instant.

“Not Brotherhood.” I managed to cough out. “Had to find someone.” My throat was dry and my head was pounding. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, or slept more than an hour or two since leaving Virgil’s cave. “You can keep the suit. Cores are nearly dead, and suits damaged. But got someone with a little mechanical expertise and they can fix it.”

His eyes lit up at the idea. “Fine. Let’s get you patched up.”

 

I spent a week at Somersett farm, helping with the chores and tending their small field. Multiple doses of rad-away finally left me feeling alive again. Raiders harassed the town once, and I headed out to their base and slaughtered them all – it was almost too easy. After that the Somersett’s gave me a wide berth. I saw in their eyes a fear of the dangerous stranger who’d showed up on their doorstep out of the irradiated wastelands and then slaughtered raiders without a scratch or batting an eye. _I’m still separated from them, even without the power suit._

I set up a small radio tower by the end of the week. Before I left I suggested they join the Minute men, grabbed my bag, and headed north. I never gave them a name, and they never asked.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Virgil had told me to go to the ruins of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology, CIT, and start there searching for an Institute courser. Coursers were their synthetic hitmen – trained specifically to hunt down rogue synths and anything in their way. They also had a chip in their heads that could be used to teleport into the Institute. Or so the rogue scientist claimed.

It was as good a lead as any. Which is why I was about to die atop the old genetics building.

Alone.

I had used my pipboy to find the courser – tracking him from the ruins of CIT to a nearby genetics building. Inside I’d been caught up in a war between Gunners and Institute synths. The fact that the two forces were fighting each other was what kept me alive – they were too distracted to realize there was a third part involved.

Hours of fighting and working my way up to the top floor had drained my supplies and ammo. I’d tripped a trap wire and taken a round of buckshot in the torso – thankfully at a distance that my armor had taken most of the damage. _It’s so much harder fighting alone._

On the other side of the door I could hear voices arguing, demanding access codes. One of them was monotone and dry – the other two were laced with fear. I left my bag on the floor and filled my pockets with stims and ammo - the grenades were long gone – downed some chems. I heard a gunshot, and the second voice went quiet. With a deep breath I opened the door.

A man I assumed was the courser – in a long black jacket and sunglasses – stared at me with a little surprise. “Are you here for the synth?”

“Uh I’m here to pick up an order? Two large pepperoni and a calzone – name is ‘fuck you’” I giggled at myself. _Might have taken a few too many chems. Or taken permanent brain damage._ Either way, at least I amused myself.

The courser however, didn’t quite get the joke. “If you’re not here for the synth, you’re here for me. What do you want?” He was stiff. Cold and controlled and utterly inhuman, despite his human appearance. It sent a shiver down my spine – even though the haze of chems.

I responded my raising my laser rifle and pegging him a few times in the chest. Unfortunately for me, his armor was reinforced and treated, and he only stumbled back a step or two. Then he disappeared. _Fucking stealth?_ That was bad news.

We played cat and mouse, and I blew through bullets. Every time I got near him he vanished and I lost him. I hit him a few times, but he hit me more. In minutes I was in bad shape. One shot had cracked my armored helmet and I couldn’t see out of my left eye – it might be gone for all I knew, but Med-x kept me standing. There were more cuts and scrapes, leaving my armor damaged and blood stained. _I’ve my match_ I realized, and cold fear swept through me.

I saw a flicker of movement, and whipped around – too late. A sharp crack and a wash of pain – I blacked out for a moment. Hitting the ground brought me to again and I tried to stand while the world spun – but couldn’t. The instant I put weight on my right leg I a bolt of pain hit me – enough to see stars. _Broken leg, he hit me with the butt of his damn rifle._

Seeing his opportunity, the Courser moved in. The way he moved said he had won. He didn’t use stealth, but simply walked across the room as though he were walking through a grocery store. I wasn’t acting as I let my head hang down, panting heavily. But my fingers were inching into my boot and I shifted my weight all on to my good leg. _I’m going to get one last chance._

As he came to a stop standing over me he shook his head. He lifted his institute rifle. As he did,  I exploded upwards with the dagger and everything I had left.

It went straight in to his skull, under his chin. We both fell back to the ground. The still hot end of his institute rifle fell onto my neck, and I could smell burning flesh. I didn’t feel it though, as the world went black.

I regained consciousness – again. _Getting way too familiar with this feeling._ The world still swimming as chems wore off. I could hear a girls voice pleading with me to hurry and get a code. A box. I limped – hopped really - on one leg as I found the toolbox. _‘Sit that pretty ass down before you damage your leg more than stims can fix._ ’ John’s voice, advice from memories, which I steadfastly ignored. In the box was a passcode on a piece of paper. It opened the door to the room that held her.

I nodded through the conversation, none of the words really processing through my pain and chem clouded mind.

“There’s a bag in the other room with the supplies I had left. It ain’t much. Take it and go.” I managed to rasp out, voice harsh and strained.

The synth looked at me, brow furrowing. “What about you?”

I waved with one hand, the other holding my hip which had begun to throb with serious pain as the med-x faded. One glance at it with my remaining good eye told me it wasn’t good. A steady trickle of blood poured from a tiny injury that I hadn’t even felt. _The downsides to med-x, you can push well past where you should have stopped._ “Just go.”

When she left, I hobbled back to the courser’s body. Removing my knife, I used it to dig under his skin and remove the chip. Then I collapsed to the ground.

Staring numbly at my blood stained hand I heard a dull whooshing sound. It could have been the blood in my head, or the wind. Either way, it didn’t much matter. I’d run from a broken heart straight into my end. I held the chip in my fist. _At least I took him with me._ And the girl was free. _That one act of goodness, that’s mine._ For the third time in under an hour, world went black.

 

 


	18. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric's saviour is an unlikely companion. Alone in an organization she hates, she tries her hand at espionage. But can she really separate her emotions from the task at hand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like how this chapter came out after rereading it a few times. Feedback on Danse and Arthur is appreciated - I honestly did no quests for the Brotherhood, and haven't interacted with either of them. I've only watched youtube videos of their dialogue and speeches to get a feel for their characters.
> 
> I know of of the stranger things is how old both Maxson and MacCready look despite the fact they're both supposed to be around 21/22 - with the SS being around 32. I personally chalk some of it up to the harsh realities of the Wastelands. But keeping that in mind I think i makes for some interesting character backgrounds for both of them.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring at a strangely bright ceiling. It was metal. The entire room seemed to vibrate at a low frequency.

_This isn’t what I thought being dead would be like._

“She’s awake.” Female voice, clear and confident.

A pen light flashed in my eyes and I blinked in surprise. “Pupil response is good. Can you see?”

“…yes?” I started to sit up.

“No, stay still.” She covered my right eye with her hand. “Can you see?”

I blinked a few times – my lid felt scratchy, the left eye sore – like I’d been poked in the eye, hard. “Yeah.”

“Implant seems to be functioning. You can sit up.”

I did as I was allowed, finding myself in gray pants and a gray shirt. I swung my legs over the bed.

“Try to stand up.” The woman – doctor, medic, or something from her white coat and pert manner – flashed me a smile.

I did so, carefully. _I broke a leg didn’t I?_ I tried to remember, but it was fuzzy. I didn’t fall when I stood up, which was a good sign. Under her instructions, I took a few steps around the room.

“Good. Implants are all in working order. Couldn’t be sure until you woke up. It’s been five days since we picked you up.” She was writing –presumably in my file.

“Implants?”

“You suffered severe ocular damage from bullet shrapnel, severe concussion, several hematomas and abrasions, broken fibula, fractured tibia, laser burn across neck and clavicle, and internal bleeding from a laser shot just above the right hip.” She lowered her clipboard. “In all honesty, you ought to be dead. If the patrol hadn’t arrived when they did, you would be. You’re a very lucky woman.”

I stared at her with a bit of shock at the laundry list of injuries. _The Wastelands in a nutshell: how many times and I supposed to be dead before I actually will be?_ Then looked around the room – and at my own clothes again. And I saw the logo – the Brotherhood of Steel. _I owe my life to the Brotherhood._ I realized with a sick feeling. _And that means this is the Prydwen._ The Brotherhood represented everything I was growing to despise – bigotry and rhetoric about protecting people from themselves all in one shiny metal package.

After an hour of poking and prodding, the doctor finally left the room. When she did I pulled up my pant leg and inspected the damage. Eight neat metal spots poked out of my leg, shiny little polka dots against the creamy pink flesh. I touched them, feeling knots in my gut as I did so. They didn’t hurt, and were warmed by my body, but they felt alien beneath my fingers. I searched the room, finding a small mirror on the wall in the attached bathroom, and took a deep breath before looking into it.

The first thing I noticed was my short hair – cut to just beneath my ears. Then I saw my left eye was a dark purple mess, and the eye itself was dark red with blood. _Like something from an old horror film._ Following the eye socket was an edge of shining metal, on the outer half of the upper and lower socket. I could almost make out the metal threads that went into the soft tissue of the eye itself. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. I winced and looked away.

I heard voices and noise outside, and turned around.

“She’s to be brought to Elder Maxson immediately.”

“But she needs time to recover!”

“She’s not going out into combat. I have my orders.”

 _Of course it’s fucking Danse._ I knew exactly 3 brotherhood members by name from my first run in with the organization, and somehow, he just kept turning up. It was strange though, to see him without power armor. _Orange really isn’t his color either._

“I’m fine.” I said, licking my lips and trying to sound like I wasn’t a mouse who had fallen into a viper’s den. “Be nice if I wasn’t wearing fancy pajamas though.” Both the medic and Danse looked up at me –surprised I wasn’t on the bed.

I got plenty of glances as we walked to the main control deck. _Five days, plenty of time for everyone to be talking._

“I take it you were leading the patrol that found me?” I said quietly, without looking at the Paladin.

“Yes.” Short, curt, he hadn’t forgotten our last encounter.

“Well…thank you.” It was heartfelt. I didn’t like him, or owing the Brotherhood, but it didn’t change the fact he’d saved my life.

Danse glanced at me from the corner of his eye, expecting some sort of sarcastic remark to follow. When I said nothing further he finally said. “You’re welcome.”

Arthur Maxson was an imposing figure – tall, broad shoulders, with a thick dark beard and scar across one cheek. Unlike the soldiers and their uniforms, he wore a dark brown leather jacket, edged in fur.

“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice was rich and warm. _I bet he gives fantastic peptalks._ I’d heard only rumors and stories of the Brotherhood’s leader. Despite his hardness, he was young – like MacCready. _Is this what growing up in the wastelands does?_

I shrugged. “No.”

“When you were found you said something about knowing the way into the Institute.” Maxson crossed his arms behind his back and began to pace the room. “You see, we have a common enemy. The Institute is a malignant cancer festering beneath the surface of the Commonwealth. And we have come to excise it. You had this –“ From his coat pocket he removed a small item, I guessed was the courser chip. “clenched in your hand.”

I nodded, and held his piercing gaze without fear. “It’s a chip from the Courser. I believe I can use it to get in to the Institute.”

“You fought a Courser – alone.”

“I did.”

“Brave. Foolish. But brave.” Arthur Maxson considered me for a long moment – I had the sense of being weighed and measured. From the faint smile on dark lips beneath his heavy beard and a glint in steely blue eyes, I also had the impression I’d been found acceptable – in more ways than one. “I believe we can work together to see to the end of the Institute.”

And with that, I started to formulate a plan.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

I spent almost two months recovering on the Prydwen before I was allowed to start running missions. Under doctors orders, I spent a lot of time in physical therapy. Working out felt so…strange. So pre-war. Wanting to avoid most of the Brotherhood soldiers and initiates, I went early, before dawn.

I didn’t sleep much anymore anyways. My dreams were either nightmares - gruesome monsters, dead friends, and robotic armies sweeping the commonwealth and drilling straight into my eye – or dreams of John. I wasn’t sure which I dreaded more every time I laid my head down.

It would figure, the first pre-dawn workout I went to do, I heard one person in the room, the solid rhythmic thuds of a fist on a punching bag unmistakable.

It would also figure, that one person was Paladin Danse. But I wasn’t about to turn around and walk out once he saw me. I wasn’t afraid of him. So we worked in silence, purposefully ignoring one another.

I was working on a punching bag one morning – admittedly I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never boxed. But I had hit things – lots of things – in the Commonwealth. _Punching things isn’t exactly rocket science._

“You should raise that elbow some, bad form like that’ll break your arm if you hit something hard enough.” Danse said matter of factly.

“Excuse me?” I stopped and straightened up.

“You hold your elbow too low, the angle’s bad.”

I considered him a moment – pretty much the only person I knew on board. My pride wanted me to same something snarky and tell him off.

But my heart said being so isolated wasn’t helping anything, and I could at least try to be nice. _He saved my life. And learning to properly punch things wouldn’t be a bad idea._

“Show me?” I asked hopefully.

“Like this.” Danse demonstrated himself, then when I started to punch he touched my bar arm – lifting the elbow and correcting it. It did feel better, and the bag seemed to thud more solidly.

“Huh, that is better.” I gave him a sideways glance. He backed off and let me continue practice, but kept an eye on me, occasionally offering corrections.

Things went on like that for a few days. Mostly silent shared workouts, a few words of advice when I worked on fighting. On the fourth day I finally stopped and gave him a skeptical look.

“Why are you doing this?”

The slightest brow arch of surprise was his only reaction. Danse was fairly stone faced and serious. He was built, brown hair and brown eyed and I was beginning to wonder if he actually knew how to smile.

“C’mon. There’s gotta be a reason.” I waited. He wasn’t one to use a lot of words, but I could guarantee I was more stubborn.

Danse finally gave in and said, “Elder Maxson is going to be assigning you to my team. It’s in our best interest that you be equipped to handle yourself soldier.”

I scoffed automatically. “I made it this far didn’t I? Must be doing something right.”

“Brute force goes a long way in the Commonwealth. However strong _skills_ will keep you – and your team – alive.” There was annoyance in his tone.

I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment. The fact that he had carried my nearly-dead self to a vertibird despite knowing who I was and what I thought of him said a lot about Danse’s character. _I might have judged him too fast._ I realized after a moment. _And I made this far, but also nearly died how many times?_ So I sighed, forcing myself to be nice. “Alright then, teach away then.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Arthur was intrigued by stories of the past, and to the curiosity of the entire ship, I found myself spending a lot of time with him. I began to understand why the ranks of the Brotherhood were unfailingly loyal to their leader – whose exploits I learned of from Danse. He had earned their respect, and when combined with the charisma and certainty of youth, Maxson was a dangerous man.

He was also conflicted – walking a line between wanting to use technology to help the people, and stockpiling it for the inevitable fight with the Institute.

“Look around you!” He said one night, as we looked out on the Commonwealth from the windows of the Command deck. “Look at the scorched earth and the bones that litter the wasteland. Millions... perhaps even billions, died because science outpaced man's restraint. They called it a "new frontier" and "pushing the envelope" completely disregarding the repercussions. Can’t you see the same thing is happening again?”

I was quiet for a time. Across the water I could make out the lights of the Castle – the Minutemen Stronghold Preston had been trying to rebuild. To my own unease, I’d found myself agreeing with some of Maxson’s ideals – more than I had thought. “Technology itself isn’t inherently bad, neither is its pursuit. It’s what people do with it that’s wrong. But people have free will – the choice to do wrong or right. Taking away technology won’t change that.”

Arthur considered my counter point, and finally sighed. He seemed to recognize I would never agree completely with the Brotherhood, but was pleased I had begrudgingly admitted to a few points.

But while he blamed science for the end of the world, I blamed mankind. People desperate to force their ideals on to everyone else had done this. And they were doing it again. ‘ _Plenty of folks out here, trying to make life hard for folks just tryin’ to survive.’_

I stifled a yawn, and turned from the window. I’d been allowed to go on a few day-long missions with Danse after some pleading about needing to get out and practice my skills. The first two day mission was tomorrow, and I was eager to be out again.

“Good night Arthur.” I refused to use titles – a stubborn thing that made the Brotherhood soldiers uncomfortable and annoyed the hell out of Danse. Maxson didn’t seem to care though.

“Let me walk you to your room Bricelyn.” He offered his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation – and surprise at the polite and old-timey gesture, I slid my arm into his.

I knew where this was going. I’d danced around his pointed interest in me since I first woke up on the Prydwen. Maxson was intrigued by my history, impressed by my exploits, and seemed to consider me an equal. He was also a self-assured youth who typically got what he wanted.

_When everyone around you is your subordinate…and then I show up…_

When he kissed me at the door to my tiny quarters, I was expecting it. His beard was rough and tickled my cheeks. _If it makes you trust me and not look twice at what I do…_ I told myself.

We moved into my quarters. I let him push me onto my bed, hungry hands and mouths finding each other. I wanted to hate it, to suffer through it in the name of espionage and maintaining my cover. I wanted it to be a means to an end. It was a primal, messy affair – but it felt _so good._ Arthur’s inexperienced desires overcome by a need that bordered on animalistic. There were clothes torn in the process of removing then and cast aside. I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck, gasping as he slid inside me. I shuddered with pleasure, and it made me feel tainted. With a rapid rhythm of thrusts that bordered on violent we shuddered to a climax, panting and gasping for air.

I rolled over, away from Maxson when we finished, so he couldn’t see the tears that swam in my eyes from choking back another man’s name on my lips. _Damn you, John._

 

 

<i>But it's in my roots, in my veins  
It's in my blood and I stain every heart that I use to heal the pain</i>

~Adele

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also here's my tiny apology for the Adele lyrics. Been doing a lot of Adele listening while writing and can't help but draw the parallels!


	19. Walking a line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric and Danse head to the Railroad HQ to get the courser chip decoded. An encounter along the way leaves Bric torn, and one small mistake gets both her and Danse into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so thrilled by your continued support for this story, I really am. Thank you all for reading!
> 
> This chapter starts to get a little non-canon. Look to the bottom for some more notes, so I don't give away any spoilers here.

I stood on the flight deck, as it hung above the ground. It was the middle of night and I’d slipped from my room in Maxson’s jacket, and come down here. I couldn’t sleep. The young man I left in my bed was a sound sleeper – and snored. _Maybe there’s hope for him._

The night guards all noted my jacket – and I wanted them to. I wanted them to know.

Leaning over the edge I stared out at the darkness, a few pinpricks of lights here there the only mark of civilization. I wonder if the one cluster of slightly brighter lights I could make out was Good Neighbor. _Are you there John? High as a kite with a woman to warm your bed?_

I wanted to be angry, to focus on all the bad things – the smoking, the chems, the violence, - and make him the villain. _It’s been months. Why can’t I get over a damn ghoul?_ Even thinking it made me feel terrible. Instead all I could think of was the perpetual smirk on thin lips, the husky gravel of his voice, the spark in dark olive eyes when I said his name, and the way he looked at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

“ _You, you’re the best thing I’ve got.”_

_So why wasn’t I enough?_

Angrily I wiped away the tears in my eyes.

I’d had my share of boyfriends through school and my twenties. I’d been single for the last year since returning home, before the bombs. In another life I would have been flattered by Arthur’s attentions. Blue eyes, chiseled good looks, and muscles for miles – he could have had any woman before the war. I would have been flattered and amazed, because young frat guys like him wouldn’t have given me a second look. _Guess it only took the end of the world for an average girl to become the belle of the ball._

Instead I felt only guilt for using Arthur. Everything he did I compared to John and found lacking. But I didn’t stop. _I’m using a guy to salve my own heart and to get what I want._ Once again I wondered who I was – although this time there were no chems to blame my actions on.

My fingers trailed upwards, finding the silver necklace that rested at the base of my neck. A gift, from Arthur. _“I was led to believe that gifts to mark anniversaries used to be normal.”_ A pleased smile beneath that thick beard, a spark in blue eyes as he waited for my reaction. I hadn’t realized it had been a month since we’d started sleeping together. He had smiled – and I had seen a young man, so happy, instead of the serious scarred leader of a hate-filled organization. _It’s not a relationship, it’s a means to an end._

It was getting harder and harder to believe that. _It’d be easier if I hated him._

Footsteps on the metal walkway behind made me stand up straight and interrupted my train of thought.

Danse stopped in his tracks with surprise. I’d lost track of the time, and the first faint glow of sunrise was on the eastern horizon.

“You don’t sleep much either do you?” I asked, pulling the borrowed jacket tighter against the chill air.

Danse’s eyes were locked on the jacket, and when I spoke they slowly trailed upwards. Shock was written all over his face. _He only just put it all together. His friend and leader is sleeping with a woman he can’t stand. And he had no idea._ Beneath the strict soldier, Danse was kind and selfless – but not the quickest guy around.

“No I…” His voice croaked and he swallowed hard, shaking his head quickly as though to clear it. “You and…” Danse couldn’t finish the sentence.

“And Arthur? Yes.” I shrugged, letting a faint grin touch my lips. “Pre-war me wouldn’t believe it either.”

Danse hesitated, then came to the railing. We stood in silence for a while – which was typical.

“What did this all look like, before the war?” He finally asked quietly.

“The whole city would be lit right now. It’d light up the clouds in a bubble around itself. You couldn’t even see the stars. Skyscrapers all over there –“I gestured to central Boston with my hand. “A few planes flying overhead. The city glowed so bright you could see it from space. And it was always noisy – people, cars, horns, just the sounds of _life_ all around. A constant buzz in the background.” I imagined it in my head, and sighed.

“Sounds chaotic.”

“It was. But it was…” I shrugged a little. “It was a big city. It was normal.”

Another span of silence. Danse wasn’t one for idle chatter.

“Why’d you join the Brotherhood?” All those spots of light out there, and my eyes kept sliding back to the one I’d decided might be Good Neighbor.

“I joined up with a friend. We…we thought it was the best way out of a dead-end life.”

“Huh. So you are a real boy and not some cloned perfect soldier.”

Danse stared at me with confusion.

I laughed. “It’s a joke Danse. You can laugh. I’m kidding.” _“You’re a strange one sister and I like it”_ I heard John’s laughter in my mind.

But Danse only shook his head with the barest chuckle. “You...aren’t like anyone in the brotherhood.”

“I’m antique.” I struggled to keep my eyes from that spot of light, instead studying Danse. He’d treated people better than I expected on the few missions I’d been allowed to tag along on. We might disagree on the humanity of synths of ghouls – and the best use of technology – but he wanted to genuinely help people. His team admired and respected him – and I’d found it was with good reason.

“I better go return this.” I tugged on Maxson’s jacket. “See you at 0800 for the mission.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

After a few short test missions, I finally had full medical clearance from the Brotherhood doctors. Which meant I could finally move forwards and try to get the chip decoded. I’d told Arthur I had contacts, people who would never work with the Brotherhood, which meant I needed to go alone. We had compromised in taking one person, with street clothes and not a single Brotherhood logo.

Of course that person was Paladin Danse, Maxson’s shining example of a Brotherhood soldier. I’d pointed out that Danse stood out – he was obviously military – and Arthur had brushed me off. _He’s the only one I trust with your life – besides myself,_ he’d said.

Danse and I skirted the edge of Good Neighbor. I was going the long way – stretching out the trip and hoping to make it harder for Danse to retrace his steps and find his way into the Rail Road’s headquarters.

Or at least, I thought I’d skirted the edges of Good Neighbor territory. In the five months since I’d been in the town, their patrols had apparently grow in size and distance. A pair of ghouls in suits stood at the end of the street.

“Ghouls!” Danse had his gun out and a shot squeezed off before he finished speaking. I batted down his weapon – fast enough to throw off his shot and it went wide.

“Damnit Danse! They’re Good Neighbor. Do you want to start a goddamn turf war?” I snapped. For all his fighting skills, he was a bit naïve when it came to dealing with the world. Danse was a black and white kinda guy. It drove me nuts.

The paladin glared at me with wounded pride. We’d built a begrudging respect through many short missions. It was hard not to when fighting side by side.

“Watch it folks! I’ll take that an accident.” The guards were approaching slowly. “What’re you doing in these parts?” They sized us up. We wore street clothes and leather armor – in an effort to blend in. Danse however, still looked like a military man, even with the heavy shadow of stubble on his chin.

“Just passin’ through.” I said. “Ain’t lookin’ for trouble.”

“Ah.” One of the guards lit up. They made no effort to leave or let us by. “Nice day eh?” One of them remarked casually, the other responding. _They’re stalling._ I realized.

In the distance I heard foot steps – someone running. A flash of bright red came around the corner. Hancock came to a stop beside the men, and took in the scene. I wore sunglasses and a militia hat. My hair cut short by the medics because half of it had been burned by the courser’s laser rifle and I’d continue to keep it short.  _New hair style, new plans._  I wanted to speak but found my voice gone. _The damn pipboy gives me away though._ It was under the sleeve of my jacket, but its bulk was difficult to hide if anyone was looking for it. Hancock spoke briefly, quietly, with one of the guards, his dark eyes flitting to me as he did so.

Danse made a frustrated sound and moved forwards. “If you are done detaining us for no reason, we’ll be moving on.” He shoved past Hancock and the guards with determination. They didn’t stop him. I decided to risk it – and moved to follow Danse.

Hancock grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him, spinning me towards him.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?” His voice was a low rumble of concern and hurt. His free arm came up and he took my sunglasses off. I saw his eyes go wide as he saw the cybernetic implant that had saved my sight. “Bricelyn…what happened?” he breathed the question, fingers reaching out to brush the shining metal that ran along the bottom of my eye.

“Long story.” I murmured, brushing his hand away before he could touch me.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead. Five months. Not one sighting.”

I said nothing. I wanted to say so much, but I didn’t want to open that box.

“The Brotherhood?” It was a probing question laced with concern. He had recognized Danse after all. _He always was more observant than he let on._ His dark eyes were searching mine, looking for answers to a myriad of questions.

“Didn’t have much choice.” My hand slid unconsciously to the angry red scar that snaked across my collarbone and up the left side of my neck, ending at my jaw.

“Hey doll…” There was that voice, that tone that made my heart try again to escape my chest. “I’m sorry. You were right. I’m a damn fool.”

I swallowed hard and said nothing, lowering my gaze to the shining silver buttons of his coat. _It’s the new coat I was altering for him._ I observed with distanced interest. One of the other reasons I’d been hanging out with MacCready was to use him as a model for the jacket I’d found and was taking in. It was newer and in slightly better shape than the one John had, but the same bright red. It was a museum replica piece I was pretty sure, compared to John’s original Hancock, but with the number of patches on his coat I wasn’t sure how much longer it was going to last. So I’d been secretly altering the new one and using Mac as my model since he was the closest in build.

 _Don’t go there. Hold it together._ I struggled not to think about how much I’d wanted to hear John’s voice say the words ‘I’m sorry’ and stared at the coat.

“We need to talk.” John hadn’t let go of my arm, voice low and thick with worry and regret.

I shook my head quickly, glancing over at Danse. He had stopped walking and watching us with annoyance – and a glimmer of concern was on wrinkling his features. Whether it was for me or that his mission would be compromised I could only guess. “I need to get going.”

“Damnit Brice, I lo-“

“Don’t.” I cut him off, looking up with panic in my eyes, my voice a strained hiss. “Don’t you dare John. Don’t you break me all over again.” I stepped back, gently pulling my arm free. “Maybe when it’s all over …” I bit my lip, shaking my head sadly. _IF I’m still alive when its over, if I can forgive myself what I’ve done._ “Take care of yourself John.” I turned and jogged after Danse, leaving the last pieces of my heart behind.

 

We walked in silence for a while after the run in with Hancock. Danse kept glancing at me, clearly wanting to speak but deciding not to. We’d had enough arguments in the last few weeks, despite growing respect for each others combat skills, so I braced for confrontation. Rolling my eyes I finally said “Go on Danse, say it. I know you don’t approve.”

“I don’t have to agree with your decisions to know that having a bond with someone, then losing them – it changes you.”

I almost tripped with surprise. “Yeah…it does.”

 

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

We almost made it.

Desdemona and Deacon had been surprised to see me. Even Deacon’s intricate network of informants hadn’t gotten word that I was alive. Maxson had apparently kept that information need to know only. The fact that it hadn’t leaked out was a testament to his leadership.

They were doubly surprised that I had secured a courser chip. Tinker Tom took it, and began running some tests trying to access the information. It took some time, but he eventually cracked the code. We were rewarded with an access code – something Virgil had claimed would allow us to dial in to the institute’s relay and teleport right into their underground bunker.

Assuming, of course, we could build a relay of our own. But first I had to get back to Virgil, and see if he had managed to draft plans for building such a thing.

We were getting ready to leave when Danse slipped up.

“If that chip does get you into the Institute, I want to know about it.” Desdemona said, gesturing freely with her cigarette in her hand.

“First I have to make it to the Glowing Sea and back. Got a contact might be able to help.”

“That’s a long trip Fixer. This time don’t disappear from the world ok?” Deacon was unreadable as usual, though he seemed impressed and concerned that I had flown under even his radar for so many months.

“Won’t be a long trip with a vertibird.” Danse remarked.

All eyes slid to him and the room fell quiet.

“I knew you looked familiar.” Deacon said. “Crew cut, beady eyes, walk like you got a stick up your ass. You ARE Brotherhood.”

I covered my face in my hand as I shook my head, muttering “Damnit Danse this was going so well.”

“PALADIN Danse?” Deacon whistled. “Heard some things about this one.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Desdemona was angry, and her hand was on her pistol. “Explain yourself Fixer!”

“It’s not what you think Dez, please.” _I can’t exactly explain my plans to fuck the Brotherhood in front of Danse now can I? And even if I do, she won’t believe me._

“You know we can’t let him leave. He knows where we are.” I heard weapons powering up and clicking on as Desdemona spoke.

“Run.” I hissed at Danse. The chip was secured in my bag, and we bolted.

Weaving through old stone passageways we didn’t stop moving. Bullets whined past us, slamming into old stone hallways and sending explosions of stone and dust raining down on us. Nearing the top I saw the tripwire but it was too late. With a deafening crash the ceiling caved in. Danse dove forwards, towards the exit, but I fell back. Through the pile of rubble I heard Danse calling – or what I assumed was him, as it was muffled and I couldn’t make out the words. It was useless to try and pick apart the pile.

 _Goddamnit!_ I ran back the way we’d come, hearing footsteps and shouting around the corner. Ducking into a dead end I flipped the switch on a stealthboy, fished from the depths of my bag, and froze in the shadows. I tried desperately to force control of my rapid breathing, forcing long slow exhalations through my nose in an effort to be as quiet as possible.

“They tripped a cave in. Either they made it out, or they had to backtrack. FIND them.” Desdemona was in command, her ruff voice so full of anger.

The noises and footsteps died down after what felt like hours, but was probably about 15 minutes. As the stealthboy faded I risked peeking out from the shadow – staying low and crouched. The pathway was empty. The next exit was back through HQ. _How the fuck am I going to manage that?_

“Well, well.” From one of the other dead ends stepped Deacon. “Thought you might not have gone far.”

“Deacon please –“ I held up my hands, no weapons in them. “I’m not turning on the Rail Road. Danse wouldn’t said a word, he swore it. I’m using them to get inside the Institute.”

He laughed, a cocky amused sound. “You’re pretty bad at this infiltration thing you know that?”

“Wait, you believe me?”

“I watched you for a long time Fixer, never seemed the sort to pick up with the Brotherhood. Especially since you turned ‘em down the first time.” With those sunglasses on despite being underground, it was hard to tell just how funny he found this all. He always was an odd one. “And I can’t believe the woman who set the relationship record with the mayor of Good Neighbor would go joining up with Brotherhood’s brand of assholery either.”

I breathed out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and felt relief wash over me. “So you’ll help?”

Deacon nodded, “C’mon.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its for the sake of gameplay, but it bothers me you can bring Danse in RR HQ, or bring Hancock and Nick onto the Pyrdwen. I can kinda accept bringing Hancock into Diamond city, as I don't think they're quite as angered by it as the BoS would be. So this chapter was my way of dealing with that set - what I think would really happen if Desdemona found out your companion was BOS.
> 
> And Deacon is another fascinating character. I suspect with how much he stalks you and vouches for you, that he'd be on your side if you fucked up.
> 
> And here's my teaser, that the next chapter will see Bric and John in the same room - oh but how is that going to go?


	20. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a narrow escape from the Railroad HQ, Bric needs a place to lay low for a day. When she finds herself in Good Neighbor, it's no surprise that the Mayor knows she's there.

**_If this is my last night with you_ **   
**_Hold me like I'm more than just a friend_ **   
**_Give me a memory I can use_ **

 ~Adele

 

 

I slipped into Good Neighbor as casually as I could muster, pulling my hat down low over my eyes. I’d lost my glasses in the escape from the Rail Road. _I owe you Deacon, and I’ll pay you back I promise._

I paced my steps with what I hoped was casual speed and swagger. _Where can I go?_ I needed to lay low for a day, then get out of the area. I needed to make it back to into the Glowing Sea, but first I needed supplies.

_I bet no one’s in Bobbi’s old place._ I headed for the deceased thief’s house, behind the warehouses in town. The door was locked, but I picked it with a few tries. I had lost my bag during the escape with Deacon, but at least I had weapons, ammo, bobby pins, and a lone stimpac all clipped and attached onto my belt and clothes.

As I had hoped, the building was empty. I started digging through the ghouls old things, finding a pair of ugly white sunglasses, a few packs of mentats, and not much else. I set down my hat upside down, piling the glasses and other items into it. I went upstairs to Bobbi’s bedroom. Her terminal sat in the corner with a green glow. _Wonder if there’s any useful info on it._

“Where’s your paladin bestie?”

I was bent over the chair, attempting to decipher Bobbi’s password, and I jumped, slamming the chair into the desk with a thud. I hadn’t heard anyone approaching. I had a pistol drawn, safety off, and finger on the trigger before I even looked up at the source of the voice.

“Quick draw.” Some amusement laced into Hancock’s dry and husky tone.

“Jesus.” I breathed out the word, my heart pounding in my chest. I lowered my gun, returning it to the holster on my leg.

“I usually prefer John.” He quipped with forced casualness. I should have laughed but I couldn’t. “Tin man ditch you?”

I shook my head. “There were …complications. We got separated.” I was suddenly acutely aware of the dried blood on my sleeve and thigh from the ricocheted shots that had gotten lucky in the narrow hallways under the old North Church. _Of course he knew I was here. He knows everything in this town._

“I thought you were dead.”

“I…should be.” My hand raised to the scar on my neck. I could hear the Brotherhood medic reciting the laundry list of injuries.

“It’s been months. Nick thinks it’s his fault – says he should have insisted on going to the Sea with you.”

_Oh Nick._ It felt like I’d been stabbed, as a sharp pain shot through my chest as Nick’s face conjured in my thoughts. _I never thought how they’d all feel._ The guilt pierced the numbness I’d wrapped my heart in by letting myself forget about _before_. I must have visibly flinched as Hancock’s eyes narrowed at me. “I…I’ll explain to him when this is over. I’ll make it up to him. Not his fault.” I said softly. _I’m a terrible friend._

“No, there’s one person to blame and it ain’t Nick.” There was the soft hiss of a match being struck as he lit up a smoke. “You don’t need to stay, but I need you to listen. I fucked up Bricelyn. I ran from the best thing in my life. Just like I always do. A damn coward. I couldn’t believe I had found where I belongs so I looked for any reason not to. You were right. I ..” He took a long drag of his smoke, considering. Having started talking, now the words continued to flow. _He’s practiced this speech for a while,_ I thought.

“You were never like other women – they’d leave, ashamed, immediately afterwards. Or make me leave.” A short bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Maybe karma isn’t entirely bullshit, since that’s what I used to do to them.”

“John, don’t…”

He held up his hand, and continued. “I let my brother get inside my head. When he told me I was going feral if I believed you could love a junkie ghoul it was exactly what I’d been afraid of. I don’t deserve someone like you. When McDonough told me rumors about you and MacCready, I believe him. And I ran from it – right back into chems. I…” He dropped his butt and ground it out, sighing softly. “I got clean. Had some help this time.” He paused, licking his lips slowly in consideration. “I just gotta say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I have done some boneheaded things, but breaking it off with you, that’s up there.”

I stood shell shocked, my heart in my throat. I’d dreamt of making up for months. In the dull grey-orange light of the glowing sea my mind had wandered and imagined what could have been. _What if I had been your remedy John instead of the jet?_ My eyes swam, and I stood silent with disbelief.

Taking my silence as a rebuff to his apology, regret darkened Hancock’s features and he turned to leave.

“No, wait.” I took a few quick steps after him, grabbing his sleeve. He froze, a glimmer of hope dancing across his scarred face as he looked back at me. “Say that again.” I said softly.

A quirk of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Which part doll? That I’m sorry for being a damned fool, or that I love you, and I don’t want to be without you ever again?”

“Both.” Pulling him toward me I kissed him, sliding my free hand around his neck, and the other down his arm to his hand. I pressed my cheek against his, closing my eyes. “One more time.”

His free hand slid around my waist and he squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry and I love you Bricelyn.” John whispered in my ear. “I’m a damn fool, but I’m yours if you still want to wake up next to this ugly mug.”

Burying my face in his neck I squeezed my eyes shut but it didn’t stop the stream of tears. I held onto him as though he might slip away. We stood in silence for a while, simply together. John let go of my hand to hold me closer, stroking my short hair.

I finally pulled back, but before I could wipe my eyes his fingers were there, wiping the last tears gently away. His hands stayed on the sides of my neck, thumbs resting along my jaw, making eye contact with me.

“Don’t feel like you gotta say anything.” John said quietly, there was a still a hint of doubt there – a refusal to believe that I felt the same.

“I love you John.” I placed my hands atop his, thumbs rubbing idly back and forth across the wrinkled scars. I saw simple joy, bright and strong, in his dark eyes. My voice was so soft, and wavered as I struggled to get the words out. “I’ve tried _so hard_ not to. To move on. But I…I can’t get you out of my head. No place I ran was far enough to leave the pain behind.”

He kissed my forehead and pulled me back into his arms in a tight embrace – as though I might slip away when he started to speak. “When you left…I’ve done a lot of shit I regret, but that – that was the biggest one. I went back to the Memory den. I was so sure I’d prove myself right, but the exact opposite happened. I ain’t gunna lie – I hit the chems even harder after that. ‘Til Nicky set me straight – tellin’ me that as long you and I were both breathing there was a chance to fix things. But I wasn’t going to have that chance if I killed myself first. I got clean, with Nick’s help. Never should’a doubted you.”

I pulled back from him, sliding my hands to the wrinkled red white and blue of the flag around his waist. I dug my finger nails into the worn cloth, as though holding on loosely might let him get away. “I love you – scars, regrets and all. Is that really so incredibly difficult to believe?”

John’s laugh was laced with old bitterness and self-depreciation. “It is. Or it was. I’ve been running for so long I…I didn’t know how to stay and deal with it. Nick wasn’t the only one to set me straight on a few things.”

I imagined Daisy giving him a tongue lashing on his foolishness and couldn’t help but smile. “I knew I liked Daisy.”

“You’ve got yourself a ghoul-granny there who’s mighty protective of her vault dweller.” John shared my smile before adding, “Gods I missed you. I refused to believe you were gone. I don’t think I…” he trailed off, leaving the sentiment ‘ _could have lived myself if you were dead’_ unspoken.

“You don’t give yourself any credit John. You’ve done a lot of good in this shithole of a world. You’ve just set your bar so damn high you can’t ever reach it.” My lips were suddenly dry, eyes rimmed with tears that threatened to fall as I added. “I wish you could see yourself how I see you.

John’s thumb slid slowly over the implants around my left eye. I flinched, pulling back instinctively. The metal was a reminder of bad decisions, close calls, and owing my life to an organization I loathed. They felt unnatural and alien, and I still couldn’t stand looking in the mirror.

“S’alright.” He traced his thumb over the implant again, along its length from outer half of my eye above and below, snugged into the edge of the eye socket. I didn’t pretend to know how it worked, all I knew is it was embedded into the eye and saved my sight. “You got something in common with Nick now.”

I laughed, a small fragile sound. “Guess that’s one way of lookin’ at it.”

His fingers traced gently down the scar on my neck. “What happened?”

I heard the guilt and concern in his voice. “Institute courser. I hunted one down.”

“The Institute’s assassins? Jesus Brice, they’re created for one purpose: killing.” His fingers followed the scar to below my collarbone and the edge of my shirt. “Why?”

“Because coursers are the way into the Institute. They’ve got a chip in their head that lets them teleport in.”

John shook his head. “Sounds crazy enough to be true. Did you get it?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“And then what?” John gently probed, trying to get me to talk. His hands slid to sit with comfortable familiarity on my hips.

“Courser almost killed me. Would have, if Danse’s patrol hadn’t showed up and found me. Don’t remember most of it. I remember getting the chip, and waking up on the Prydwen a week later.” I swallow hard to keep the well of emotions from overwhelming me. Simplifying the story in a few sentences, skipping the part where I’d sold my soul and my body in an effort to embed myself in the Brotherhood.

“And this morning?” He pushed me to continue gently.

“Needed to get the chip to the Railroad so they could hack it. Danse fucked up and Dez pinned him as Brotherhood. Deacon’s the only reason I got out alive after a tripwire collapsed the exit with Danse on one side and me on the other.”

“Deacon? Really? Hm.” John and Deacon clashed, though nothing serious. He turned a blind eye to the Railroad’s operations in Good Neighbor, and from the glint in his eye, Deacon had just gone up a few notches in his opinion.

Part of me didn’t want to ask – didn’t want to know the pain I’d caused my friends – but I had to know. “How is everyone?”

It took John a minute to respond – and I could tell he was trying to soften the blow. “They’re doing alright. I don’t…I don’t really know. I haven’t left Good Neighbor in a while.” _They all blamed me for your death._ Was what he didn’t say. “I had the guards keepin’ an eye out – I didn’t, I couldn’t believe…” And he couldn’t finish the sentence with _that you were dead._

“I’m a terrible friend.” I sighed with guilt, hanging my head with a slight shake. “I didn’t mean for it to be so long…for a while, the medics wouldn’t let me leave. And then…time just kind of got away.”

“MacCready took it pretty hard – and he slugged me. I deserved it, for thinking he’d go behind my back. Haven’t spoken to him since. Piper stormed in here and punched me – little miss reporter’s got a wicked right hook.” John chuckled at that memory. “Nick…he’s been out a lot, staying busy with cases. Cait … she disappeared for a long while. Nick found her almost dead from an overdose out at that Robot race track, beat up pretty badly from losing a few betting fights.”

“And the rest?” My heart hurt. _How could I do that to them all?_

A slight shrug. “Haven’t made it to Sanctuary, but I hear it’s still standing. Minutemen are still there, though I think a few settlements took some hard hits from raiders in the last few weeks.”

“Preston can handle it. A while back he told me what I did reflected on the Minutemen – and look at me now.” I closed my eyes, guilt and regret threatening to overwhelm me.

John leaned in and brushed his lips against the implant, gently lifting my chin with a finger to make me meet his eyes. ”Hey, they’ll forgive you.” He kissed my still-damp cheek, trailing faint kisses along my cheek bone. When his lips found mine they were faintly salty from my own tears.

I’d almost forgotten what he felt like – the adoration in those dark eyes as he showered my with his attention, the warmth of alternating smooth and wrinkled skin. We continued to kiss, relaxing into one another. They were kisses full of regret and forgiveness. We kissed away the past as we moved to the old mattress in the corner, shedding clothing as we went with movements that grew hungrier with each moment.

John laid me down, one hand wrapped around my lower back, tracing kisses along the scar on my neck. Each new scar and mark I’d gathered merited a kiss of acceptance and appreciation of all they represented. I shivered with each kiss, skin electrified with the need to be touched. _How many times have I dreamt this?_

He lingered at the puckered angry scar on my hip as nimble fingers slid off my pants. Following them down with more kisses he couldn’t stop the faint gasp of surprise at the implants that dotted my right leg from the knee to the ankle. Metal spots perforated the pale skin in even rows.

I flinched, pushing him away from it. “Don’t…”

“Do you really think a little metal makes you any less gorgeous?” His laugh was husky and rich. “It doesn’t change anything doll.” He knelt beneath my bare legs, weathered fingers tracing idly up and down my calves.

Shaking my head I said “No it’s just…I don’t like them. They remind me I was stupid and almost died. They remind me I owe something to the Brotherhood.” _And they make me think of Maxson._

“If I’d been there…” Husky voice full of sudden regret, a shimmer of tears in dark eyes.

“No. It’s over – let the past stay there John.” I sat up, propped on one elbow, reaching to stroke his cheek with the back of my hand. “Guilt doesn’t get us anywhere. I shouldn’t have run either.” I gently encouraged him back towards me and he slid back up to be face to face again, though his fingers lingered on the implants in my leg. I felt the uneven texture of his skin against my bare chest and the warmth he radiated and shuddered. I kissed him, letting it linger.

I’d almost forgotten what he felt like, and exactly how skilled he was. It was night and day compared to Maxson. _John’s a connoisseur of women._ Every time I breathed his name joy danced in olive eyes. John put back the pieces of my broken heart the best way he knew how. There were murmured declarations of love between gasps and moans of pleasure as we fit together.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Propped on an elbow I watched John sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest in deep sleep of contentment made the shadows dance across the wrinkled hills and valleys of his skin. I could feel my resolve to continue against the Institute melting away. _This was a bad idea. We could stay here, running Good Neighbor, and let the rest of the world fall apart._

As quietly as I could I stood, slipped into my clothes and crept down the stairs. I stopped at K.L.E.O’s for supplies – since caps and my weapons were the only things I’d been left with. The assaultron was always open. As I left her store I hurried towards the front gate, looking at my belt as I finished putting away the few stimpacs she’d had from a previous customer. It wasn’t much, but I only needed to make it to the Prydwen – and I was betting on running into a brotherhood patrol long before I got there. I could catch a ride. I placed my hand on the corrugated metal door to the town.

“If you think you’re leaving without me, you might have some head trauma.” Hancock leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. He was trying to look relaxed and dangerous as he did so, but since he wore only the red frock coat and pants in a hurry to get downstairs it wasn’t working. His dark eyes betrayed his hurt as he watched me.

“I’m in too deep. I have to finish this,” I sighed and continued quietly. “Before I lose my nerve.”

“And I’ve got your back. We’re in this together.” John stood up and reached for me, hands sliding on my hips and pulling me towards him. I didn’t resist, and stepped closer.

“I have to do this alone. I’m using them, to take down the Institute. Let them spend their resources on it. Then I’m going to take them down too.” I wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Why?”

“I convinced them we share a purpose. Alone they won’t look twice at what I do…Maxson trusts me…” I spoke so softly, wavering voice sharing more than I wanted it to. Maybe if he didn’t hear me, he wouldn’t put the pieces together.

Despite the everyday-man chem-addict persona John used to make the average person feel comfortable around him, he was quick and clever – even without mentats.

“Brice…what have you done?” His tone said he knew, but wanted to hear it from me.

“What I had to. I ain’t proud of it.” My voice wavered and what followed a quiet shameful whisper. “I’m so sorry.” _I didn’t have to, I just needed something…anything…_

“Hey.” John’s fingers were on my chin, guiding my face upwards gently to make me meet his gaze. “I ain’t one to be casting judgement doll.” There was love and forgiveness in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can find another way.”

“Please don’t ask me to stay.” I said softly. “I don’t I have the strength to say no. I could watch this whole godforsaken world burn from the state house balcony along as I’m with you.”

There was a long moment before John sighed. “But we ain’t that kind of people.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was worth it - I wrote and rewrote it a lot. They're not back together but...well, life is never easy.
> 
> We're getting close now, as this is definitely going to be 25 chapters long, and it's all written. I'm just reviewing and editing before posting now. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the comments, they make this all worth it!


	21. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric returns to the Brotherhood, and finally makes it into the Institute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is your requisite SPOILER WARNING if you've not completed the primary quest line in game.

I had to give the Brotherhood credit – they traveled in style. The vertibird cut the time to get to Virgil down to a day and a half. We left the crew and the bird on the ground outside the radiation zone, and headed in.

Brotherhood power armor wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. Beside Danse, I trudged through the wasteland, leading to the way back to Virgil’s cave.

They also had resources to spare. Once we had the plans in hand and were back at the Prydwen, it took only days to have the relay built. I guess it’s easy to have supplies when you bully settlers into handing them over.

“Are you sure about this?”

“We only have the one code. Once we use it, they’ll know. Guess we’ll see.” I said as I stepped onto the relay pad.

“I don’t like it.” The paladin no longer looked that odd to me in the orange jumpsuits that acted as uniform on the Prydwen. He was pacing back and forth in front of the relay, brow knitted with concern.

“C’mon now, you’re making me think you care Danse. That’d put a damper on our antagonizing relationship.” I flashed him a grin. He was starting to feel like a pain in my ass older brother.

“We don’t have much choice.” Arthur was serious, and hiding his concern better than Danse. “We’re relying on you, Bricelyn. Get the data, and get back safe.” There was worry and doubt in his eyes. I’d avoided him since I got back from Good Neighbor – I had said I’d spent the night on the road, and hadn’t even admitted to being in town. _‘We got nothin’ to lose but each other love. Come back safe.’_ I kept hearing John’s voice, and I didn’t know if I could do it anymore.

“Relay is online, all systems are green.” Everyone took a step back.

“Counting down – 3 -2 -1-“

The relay was a sudden flash light and the weirdest sensation, and then I was in the Institute.

The relay control room was empty – ad it felt eerie. I stepped quickly to the first console I saw, and found it unlocked. _Guess they aren’t expecting visitors._ I shoved in the first holotape and started the download. As it did so, I heard a voice come over the loudspeakers.

“I can only imagine what you’ve heard, what you think about us.” The voice was older, male, and startlingly calm.

When the first disk finished I popped in a second one. Deacon had somehow managed to slip me a second disk, snuck into my quarters and carefully concealed in a hollowed out book. It was designed by the Rail Road to do the same thing as the Brotherhood’s – copy what it could of the Institute’s mainframe. _Deacon’s damn good at his job, and I owe him._

I tried to ignore the voice over, but once I was done copying the mainframe I realized I had no way to activate the relay.

“If you’ll step into the elevator, I’d like to welcome you to the Institute.” His words were friendly enough, but creepy – he knew where I was. _Let’s hope he doesn’t know what I’m doing._

The elevator was designed to show off, clear plexiglass decorated with a twisting DNA pattern that let me slowly descend down several floors to a fancy landscaped area.

It was all so…perfect. Pretty. Clean. Bright.

I hated it.

_These people threw Nick away. They have meds and chems that could help people, but they horde them to themselves._

The voice had continued to talking. I ignored it until it said something about “your son” and I snapped back to attention. _I don’t have a kid…but Nora did. Is he talking about Shaun?_

The winding path I was being led on ended at a boy in a cage. _That seems wrong. Wish John was here, he’d have some inappropriate quip._ The thought was a stab in my heart.

“Shaun?” He looked like the boy in Kellogg’s memories. “Hey Shaun, I knew your Mom.”

But the boy only became anxious and nervous, calling out for Father. The more I tried to calm him, the more excited and upset he became.

“Father? Father! Help she’s trying to take me!”

The doors opened and older man – in his 60s – came into the room. He wore a white lab coat and had silver hair and a silver beard.

Shaun…S9-23 recall code Cirrus.” And with that, the boy’s head hung down from drooped shoulders and he stopped moving. _A synth. A synthetic child. But Synths don’t age._ What a horrifying thought – to be trapped as a 12 year old for eternity.

And that voice – the man before me was the one from the speaker system.

“Fascinating, but disappointing.”

_Your mean horrifying. A synthetic child is horrifying._ He continued talked but I was too busy staring at the deactivated synth. _Does Nick have a code? Why? It’s so dehumanizing._

“..effects of extreme emotional stimuli.”

_Like Nick dealing with the loss of a woman he remembers but never really knew? Or trying to figure out how he fits in this fucked up world? Is that extremely emotional enough?_

“…and your journey here was fraught with challenges.”

_Like almost dying more times than I can count? Or thinking my best friend was dead? Sleeping with a man just to get him to trust me? Not to mention chem addiction, murdering unarmed people, and a body count so high I’m not sure there’s a number for it._

“I am Father, welcome to the Institute.”

I stared at him, realizing he wanted a response. I wanted to tell him off. To raise my gun and kill him and move on – but I needed to get the information back to the Railroad. And I needed to try to find the serum to the FEV strain Virgil was infected with. Then…

“Is the real Shaun even here?”

“He is, closer than you think.” I caught a moment of confusion on his confident features. I hadn’t reacted the way he’s planned. He launched into another spiel. I had the impression he’s practiced it for a while.

_A year and a half and then-some if they’ve been watching me since the Vault._ I didn’t care. My mind was racing, wondering how long it’d be before they figured out I was here with malicious attentions.

“I am Shaun. I am your son.”

I blinked, brought back to reality hard. “Shaun wasn’t my son…”

_Shit._ A memory, long buried, resurfaced. The days the bomb fell, I’d raced to the Vault. I’d been right behind Nate and Nora and their infant son. We’d watched the bombs fall, the explosion in the distance as the mushroom cloud reached skywards, and felt the first winds of the shockwave as the elevator dropped into the vault.

They’d handed out blue vault suits and told us to change. In the terror and hurry to get inside, we didn’t ask questions. Next where chambers, “decontamination” chambers. I had stumbled on the grating, as Nora was passing Shaun to Nat. I’d caught myself on the chamber.

With a laugh, Nora had told me to go ahead – and we had switched chambers.

They were only supposed to decontaminate us. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.

But that meant our files had been swapped. If the Institute had purposefully saved and monitored Nora’s chamber – they’d been monitoring mine instead.

My head swam. _None of this was meant for me._ My hand shot out, and slammed into the glass of synth-Shaun’s cage with a thud, steadying me.

Shaun was flustered. For all his planning, for the Institute’s careful planning, they hadn’t accounted for one stupid little mistake. A trip, a friendly gesture, and everything had changed.

 

 

 


	22. Betrayals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data from the Institute's mainframes get more than one person into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another mandatory spoiler warning!

With a blinding disorienting flash, I appeared back on the relay pad at the old airport, in the shadow of the Prydwen. Chaos erupted amongst the initiates in the area, scrambling for medics and Maxson.

I stepped lightly off the pad, shrugging to adjust my bag. It had been a week inside the Institute. I’d met every leader of the different divisions. I’d seen the labs for making synths and the FEV virus. It had been bright and shiny and terrifying.

And it had fanned the smoldering dislike I had for the Institute into flames of hatred.

Father – Shaun – had some plan for me. One I had no intention of ever participating in. But for the time it meant I was on friendly terms and could return there – though I never wanted to be inside again.

It had been so clean, so bright – and so reminiscent of pre-war life is was disturbing. It felt unreal. A lie trying to pretend that the world hadn’t ended.

I took a deep breath of the Commonwealth air, and sighed slowly. _They could do so much good with all that technology. But instead they’ll let all these people – my friends – die._

Maxson came down the walkway with a quick pace – taking pains not to flat out run. I shrieked with surprise when he swept me up into a bear-hug, my feet clearing the ground.

“Jesus Arthur put me down!” He spun me around and set me down again, with a quick but impassioned kiss.

“You made it back. You have the holotape?” Blue eyes were dancing with happiness – though I wasn’t sure whether it was my return or the promise of the Institute’s demise I brought with me. Probably some of both.

_I’m going to break his heart._ I looked away quickly, swallowing down a flash of guilt.

“I do, here.” I pulled it from my pocket and offered it up. The second holotape was secure in my bag – I had to find a way to get it to the Rail Road.

“This is it. This is going to bring down the Institute. We’ll get started on decoding it at once.” With his arm protectively around my waist, we headed into the Prydwen.

 

Three days later I was summoned to the command deck. I walked in to find Arthur pacing at the front of the room, hands clasp behind his back.

“Bricelyn is there anything you want to tell me?” His voice was rough and thick, tinged with exhaustion.

I faltered. “No? Should there be?” I stopped a few feet away from him. He dismissed the guards at the entrance to the large room with a wave of his hand.

“Proctor Quinlann completed decrypting some of the data you brought back. The data uncovered so far has included a list of synths who either escaped, or went missing, from the Institute’s underground facilities.” Arthur’s brow was furrowed with a mix of emotions, blue eyes dark.

_Oh shit. Who is a synth?_ I mean, I knew I wasn’t – or I was pretty sure. But his starting question had been an opening, a chance for honesty. Arthur valued honesty, and would rather hear a confession freely given – he’d go easier in that case.

“Who?” I said quietly, cutting to the chase.

“Paladin Danse is a perfect match for one of the synths on the list.”

“DANSE? Are you fucking kidding me? He’s the poster boy for the Brotherhood. You have to be wrong.”

“I had the same reaction. But the evidence…” He trailed off, momentarily unsure, then recovered. “The files included DNA samples for each subject. The Brotherhood also maintains DNA records of each soldier. Danse’s DNA is a perfect match for the subject the Institute calls ‘M7-97’.”

“I don’t…I can’t believe it.” I shook my head. Of all the people, Danse was the last one I might have thought could be a synth. He followed the Brotherhood’s codes and rules to a letter. The man was uncomfortable having an original thought of his own.

“It’s true. To make matters worse, he’s gone AWOL.” Maxson resumed his pacing back and forth for a moment. I could tell he was on edge, hurt and angry at the information before him. Danse as a synth was a deep betrayal – a blow to the Brotherhood’s very core. “His sudden disappearance further confirms that he is M7-97. I find it hard to believe he never said anything about this to you – then swore you to secrecy.”

I laughed, bitter and surprised. “Danse and I aren’t exactly friends Arthur. I mean, I once threatened to –and I quote – ‘blow those pearly whites out of his damn mouth’ – with his own laser rifle. IF he is a synth, I’m the last person he’d tell.”

It wasn’t entirely true. I’d reached a begrudging partnership with Danse while running missions. We got on each others nerves, and we had different world views. But we’d found a point of mutual respect in combat and had shared a few drinks on overnight missions.

“Hmm.” Arthur was quiet for a moment. “I believe you. But that leaves the matter of dealing with Danse. We have a duty. As a synth Danse is a monstrosity of technology, everything we – the Brotherhood – hate. Our mission is clear.” His tone was tense, edged with regret but firm and confident still.

“Arthur no…”

“This is the most difficult order I’ve ever given.” The regret was stronger, but the decision was made.

“Don’t do this. He is your FRIEND damnit.” I found my hands clenched into fists.

“I am ordering you to hunt down Danse and execute him. Bring me his holotags.”

“No. I won’t do it.” I shot back immediately. “He has done NOTHING wrong. What if he doesn’t even know – or didn’t know- what he is?”

“I…hadn’t considered that.” Arthur hesitated. I saw the moment of self-doubt and lunged at it.

“He’s your friend. How many lives has he saved? Don’t do this.”

“But he’s a synth. And for a future free of the Institute, all synths must be destroyed. All of them.” And the moment was gone. The Brotherhoods indoctrination and the pride of youth reassured Arthur he was making the right decision. _He’s not a man who is capable of being wrong._ I saw it in his eyes, and stepped back from him.

“We can’t afford to make an exception. Even when it comes to executing one our own.”

“Why me?” It didn’t make any sense.

“Because you’re the strongest soldier I’ve got. You know Danse. If anyone can find him, it’ll be you.” There was something there in his rich voice – a hint of an alternative motive. He had to know I wouldn’t do it. I would disobey the order, find another way. _Fuck I’m not actually IN the Brotherhood, he can’t actually order me to do anything._

I hoped he was relying on that. _Maybe there’s still hope for him, the Brotherhood could do so much good if it wanted to._

“Proctor Quinlann should be able to get you a starting point to find him.”

“I…” I sighed. There was no point in arguing. And the more time I spent here the more likely it was someone else might find Danse before I could. _I owe him this much, if I can get to him first there’s hope._ “Sir yes sir.” I chirped in the most sarcastic tone I had with a half-assed salute. I saw the look of annoyance on Arthur’s face as I spun around and stalked out of the room.

 -------------------------------

 

Scribe Haylen caught up to me as I headed for the flight deck. I’d packed all my things – somehow, I suspected I wouldn’t be back on the Prydwen any time soon. She grabbed my arm.

“Hey, Bric?”

“Haylen?” The woman was young and kind enough. She’d been with Danse when I first met him, almost a year and a half ago and then-some. I had the impression she didn’t believe the Brotherhood’s rhetoric, but was here for the safety they offered.

“They told us if we have any sightings of Paladin Danse we’re to report them to you. I assume this means you’re hunting him down.” Concern was etched on her youthful features.

“Yeah…I guess I am.” News sure traveled fast on this damn ship.

“I…I can’t believe after everything Danse has done for you, you’d turn your back on him like this.” Her tone was accusatory and upset. It was also loud, and I was suddenly afraid she’d get herself into trouble if her colleagues heard her saying such things.

Grabbing her arm I pulled her back to the wall, glancing around to see who was in earshot. It was quiet, so I responded, “I have no intention of hurting him Haylen. I owe him my life. I just hope I can talk him into saving himself. If you know where he is…”

Haylen seemed to droop –all the righteous defensive anger drained out of her. “He’s my mentor, and friend. I don’t care if he’s a machine or not…he’s still Danse.” There was so much in her voice – she loved the Paladin. _And that clueless dunse has no idea I bet._

“I know Haylen. Believe me. I know. I have friends in…other places. I can help him if I can get to him first.”

“Try Listening Post Bravo. It was our old fallback point.” She said quietly.

“Thank you Haylen. Now keep your head down and stay safe.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“I knew Maxson would send someone. He never liked to do the dirty work himself. I didn’t think it’d be you though.” Danse’s deep voice was strong and even. He wore the orange jumpsuit of the Brotherhood, as we stood in the ruined outpost. I’d easily removed the few turrets and spot lights out front. But all my weapons were holstered, and I’d perched my sunglasses on my head.

“Something about best soldier around with you gone. Load of bullshit, since I’m not actually IN the Brotherhood.” I said, shifting my weight to my left leg. _Pretty sure this some sort of fucked-up loyalty test._ We stood in silence for a minute before I finally said, “You didn’t know, did you?” I was familiar with how the Railroad operated, and the work of Dr. Amari.

Danse shook his head. “I had no idea. Until Quinlann decoded that list, I thought synths were the enemy. I never expected to hear that I was one of them.” There were dark bags under his eyes, and a few days of dark brown stubble on his chin.

I couldn’t imagine finding out that all along you’d been the thing you were told to hate. Despite all our arguing and differences, I felt only sympathy for the paladin.

“If it wasn’t for Haylen, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” His tone wavered, unsure of how he felt about that admission.

“She cares about you. A lot.” I tried to hint at just how much with my tone. _She’s risking everything - she told him what was in that data and convinced him to run._

“So what are your orders? Does Maxson even want me alive?” There was resignation in his voice.

“I think the exact order was ‘execute on sight’ but I’ve always been bad with listening.” I forced a faint grin. Danse had frequently complained about my inabilities to follow orders precisely. “And again, I’m not Brotherhood, so they’re not really orders. There had to be another way.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” There was that tone, ringing with authority. “I’m a synth, and must be destroyed.”

“I’m not going to kill you. Fuck, you literally carried my broken body out of that genetics building. Do you think I’m some sort of heartless monster?” I glared at him with a momentary urge to throttle some sense into him, but I was pretty sure I couldn’t close my hands around his thick neck.

“No not at all. I just…” Danse hesitated, brows wrinkling with thought. “Synths were never meant to be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions, they need to be controlled.”

“Do you even hear yourself Danse? You’ve been making decisions and leading your team for years. Aren’t you making a decision right now? To stand here and talk with me? To convince me to do what you won’t do yourself – to kill you?” I took a few steps towards him. “This is what’s ridiculous Danse. Not to be trusted? I’ve trusted you with my life. Haylen’s trusted you with hers. You were _always_ a synth, and it changes nothing.”

Danse froze, considering what I’d said. “I..I don’t know. I don’t want to die. But I need to be the example, not the exception.”

“Jesus, you even sound like Maxson. Parroting the same words. The Brotherhood must have written the book on brainwashing.” I sighed heavily. He needed time to think this through, to recover from years of living under a strict code that had just been shattered. Time I didn’t think we had right now.

“Technology run amok is what brought the world to its knees.” Danse was struggling, reaching for the doctrines he knew. Words he’d staked his life on and been using as a moral code instead of developing his own. “It’s what brought humanity to the brink of extinction. Synths are part of that technology, and have to be destroyed.”

“No, it isn’t Danse. I was there. Remember?” I tried to be calm, despite the growing anxiety in my gut. I didn’t know if I could talk him down. “People did that. People destroyed the world. A gun only hits what it’s pointed it.”

“If you don’t kill me you’ll be betraying the Broth….betraying Maxson. Why are you doing this?” Danse looked up me, brown eyes so full of confusion and pain. “You don’t even like me.”

“I know I am. But I can’t – I won’t kill an innocent man. I don’t have to like you to know you haven’t done a damn thing wrong. Nor do I have to like you to know that this is wrong. You deserve to live.” He looked even more confused, and it made me laugh. “Gods Danse you’re so damn dense. I don’t like you, but I fucking respect you.”

He was at a loss for words, so I continued. “You break your own arguments. You’re thinking now aren’t you? Feeling fear, confusion, and a mix of other things – I can see it all over your face.” Danse looked so lost it tugged on all my heartstrings. “It’s a lot to take in. I can’t even imagine. I know people who can help, if you’ll let them. Please – let me save your life. Give me your holotags.” I held out my hand.

The Paladin stared at my open hand. “But…I’m ready to accept the consequences of my true identity. Maxson gave you orders and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand in your way.”

I sighed. “Such a law-abiding soldier-boy. I’ve gotta work on that. But you’re missing the point, because there’s no way in hell I’m shooting you Danse.”

“You don’t make any sense sol- Bric.” He huffed with exasperation. “You’re risking your life for me.”

“I know what I’m doing. So does Haylen.” At her name I saw him flinch. _He does care. Maybe I can use that._ “She told me where to find you because she knew I wasn’t going to kill you. She’s risking even more than I am. The question you should be asking is why are we risking our lives for a man who’s so determined to die?”

Danse stared at me, waiting for to answer the question. My outstretched hand was getting heavy.

“Because we’re not going to lose a damn friend Danse, that’s why. So stop poking out your friends eyes with this martyr shit and let us help you. Don’t make us mourn you.”

That finally made it through the haze of confusion and hit his heart. I saw him stop clinging to those Brotherhood ideals and the end he had though was inevitable as he shoulders slumped a bit. Slowly, he removed the holotags from around his neck.

“So what’s our next move?” He dropped the tags onto my hand.

I closed my fingers around the still-warm metal. “You have to go underground. I think I can convince Arthur you’re dead.” _I sure fucking hope I can. I hope this is why he really sent me._ “Sanctuary is safe, and I have friends who won’t ask questions.”

Outside I head the low whirring rumble that made my adrenaline spike.

“Vertibird? What the hell?” I glanced at Danse, who had tensed up. “Stay here and be quiet.” I could tell he wanted to DO something, to act, to be the one in control – but realized he couldn’t. _I can’t imagine how hard this is for him._

Outside Maxson was waiting, pacing in front of the building. The vertibird had landed up on the hill, and two soldiers stood there waiting.

“Here’s your damn tags.” I threw the holotags at Maxson, who despite the surprise caught them with ease.

“So it’s done?” He stared at the tags for a moment before looking up at me.

“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, narrowing my eyes at him.

“So if I go inside this old listening post I’ll find the body of Paladin Danse?” Maxson’s tone was accusatory – he didn’t believe me.

“He was your damn friend Arthur.” I was now sure this was a damn test – but something had changed. Something had made him follow me out here.

“As I told you, I cannot make exceptions.” His tone was hard, a sharp edge betraying his growing frustrations. “Is he dead?”

Through gritted teeth I hissed “Yes. Danse is dead.”

There was a flash of regret and pain In blue eyes, which was pushed aside as quickly as it appeared. “I hate liars Bricelyn.” He closed the distance between us in a few long strides.

I didn’t flinch. “If you really wanted him dead you wouldn’t have sent me Arthur. You knew how this was going to go.” I lowerer my voice. “If you wanted Danse dead you should have done it yourself. Take the damn tags and let him go. No one besides us needs to know.”

“Danse isn’t a man, he’s a machine.” Arthur’s rich baritone growled with frustration. “An automaton created by the institute that needs to be destroyed.” He sighed with disappointed. “I had hoped you had come around. That you would do what was right.”

“I did.” I spoke quietly. _We just have very different views of what’s right._ And with that thought I realized there wasn’t any hope here – I wasn’t going to be able to change Maxson’s point of view.

“It wasn’t born from the womb of a loving mother, it was grown in the cold confines of a laboratory. Flesh is flesh, machine is machine – the two were never meant to intertwine.” He continued.

Unconsciously my hand raised to brush the metal implants in my eye. “Really? It doesn’t fucking matter where he came from – every sentient person has a right to live. To be treated like they’re human. After everything Danse has done I don’t understand how you can treat him like this.”

“Proctor Quinlann has decoded more of the data.”

The sudden topic change made me falter, changing my defiance to confusion.

“The Institute has a rather large file on you. Or it seems to be on you, despite it being under the name Nora.” Maxson continued. “It included some interesting comments by the psychologists.”

I felt a ball of dread in my gut, but I said nothing. _This is why he’s here – this is what changed. Whatever’s in that data blew my cover._

“The night you were gone – after getting the chip decoded. Where were you?” Arthur knew, and his voice was strained. Between my awkward behavior and whatever the Institute file had on me, he knew. He was a man betrayed twice over, and anger was boiling over to keep the pain at bay.

I licked my lips slowly, considering how I wanted this conversation to go. _I knew I’d be found out eventually._ “I spent the night in Good Neighbor.”

Hearing it from my own lips made Arthur Maxson snap. His gloved hand wrapped around my neck before I could react. I grabbed for his wrists, nails digging into the leather gloves, but it made no diference.

“How could you?” Maxson growled, breath hot on my face.

I struggled against his grip – tight but not choking, not yet – and I saw a flash of movement near the vertibird that caught my eye.

One of the soldiers was waving at me, a giant grin on his face I could just make out.

_What the hell?_

My mind raced, and reached one conclusion: _Deacon?_

I started to laugh, a rich amused chuckle of relief that made me throw my head back with it as I grinned. It carried across the small bowl in which the listening post sat.

Maxson was confused – deeply so and his grip lightened. He’d been about to growl something out but stopped, mouth hanging out as brows furrowed. He clearly thought I’d lost my mind suddenly.

“Oh Arthur, you knew the stories about me. The entire commonwealth was buzzing with them.” I gasped out between laughter.

“In Good Neighbor did you .. .did you… have _intimate relations_ with that damn ghoul?” He growled, still needing to hear it said, needing to hear me say it. His heart refusing to believe what his mind knew.

I laughed again but it had a bitter edge to it. _I am so sorry Arthur, but the least I can do is make it easy to hate me when this over._ “’Intimate relations’ hah – yes I fucked a ghoul. One who’s more of a man than you’ll ever be. You could stand to learn a few things in the bedroom – a little more giving, little less taking y’know? – before you can consider competing with him.”

Arthur’s eyes went wide with fury and I felt his fingers tighten once more – this time cutting off my air. I struggled against his strong grip, clawing at his hands. “You little ghoulfucking bitch!” There was the anger, the hatred that would make it easy to recover from a broken heart.

“Hey now, you might want to put my friend down Maxson, as Glory here has a pretty twitchy finger. I think it might be a defect in her assembly.” Deacon’s voice rang loud and clear from the small hill, filled with amused victory. He wore a Brotherhood knight’s combat fatigues and was holding an assault rifle leveled at Maxson.

Arthur startled and let go, spinning around to look at the vertibird. “What the hell? Who the hell are you?”

Glory was grinning from ear to ear with the threat of violence. The dark skinned synth wore her usual combat attire – heavy jacket and bristling with weapons. Her minigun was held at her side in both hands.

“Friends.” I said, rubbing my neck. _That’s going to bruise._ “Something you don’t really understand.” His head whipped around back to me. “Friends with amazingly good timing.”

“You bitch!” Blue eyes settled on me, flashing with anger and pain. “Did you ever care?” He hissed the question, a desperate one that slipped out before he could stop it.

“I…” I faltered. I was always an awful liar. My hand stopped rubbing my soon to be bruised neck and clasped the necklace he’d given me. “It’s…complicated. Arthur…” I met his eyes. “I thought there was hope for you. But how you’re treating Danse…” I let the words hang, the thought unspoken. _You’re a monster and I can’t save you._

“You’re insane.” He hissed. “Protecting ghouls and synths? You’ll destroy the commonwealth all over again.”

“No Arthur, I intend to save it. Including from you.” My hand slowly fell away from the necklace. “Now go. Get out of here.” Confusion flitted across his bearded face. “I’m not going to kill you. And I won’t let them either. But the next time I see you…”

“This is war you realize that right? The might of the Brotherhood –“

“Save it. You’ve already got one war against the Institute. Is another one what the world needs? Just go.”

Arthur Maxson looked like he wanted to say something else, fists clenched at his side. He was a huge imposing figure bristling with rage and betrayal, an angry scar on his features, that close cut military haircut and beard all adding to a figure to be respected and feared.

But I didn’t see the imposing grizzled leader of a military organization. I saw a 22-year-old man, whose girlfriend had just admitted to cheating on him, and betraying everything he believes in. Who’s friend was something he hadn’t expected. A young man who’d just lost a lot of things he cared about in a matter of minutes.

_What have I done? I’m a terrible person._

“Just go.” I put what vehemence I could into my tone, pointing towards the road. But it wasn’t much.

Maxson turned and left, casting hateful glances at Deacon and Glory as he did. There was silence until he was out of sight.

“You…It took a lot of guts to stand up to Maxson like that. And you did it for me. I will never forget that.” It was Danse, suddenly standing beside me. I hadn’t heard him leave the building, but I wasn’t surprised. I was just glad Maxson hadn’t seen him.

“Yeah well, don’t consider us even until I get you back to Sanctuary. All the patrols are looking for you, and they will be until Maxson gets back – which is going to be a day or two.”

“That’s a bit of a haul from here. Dangerous trip.” I knew that gravelly voice laced with amusement. “Ever think about having an exquisitely handsome and deadly ghoul at your side for it?”

“John?!” I whipped around, and saw him standing in the shadow of the building behind me. He was holstering his shotgun with a playful grin.

I dashed over to him and threw my arms around his neck in a hug. “How? Where?” I stepped back. “Wait - how long?”

A devilish grin lit his scarred features. “A while. Long enough to hear you tell the Elder of the Brotherhood that he was a mediocre fuck who could learn a few things from a ghoul.” I blushed, and he laughed. “That’s one hell of a way to make an enemy Brice.” His arm slid around my waist and we walked back towards Danse who had been joined by Glory and Deacon.

It wouldn’t be long before the Brotherhood attacked. We needed a plan.

But first there was something I had to do.

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

I stopped half way over the bridge into Sanctuary in the mid-morning sun. It had taken us two and half days to get here, swinging south to avoid the ghosts of the ruins of Greentop Nursery, and keeping off the main roads I didn’t want anyone to see Danse – lest reports sneak back to the Brotherhood. We’d found a change of clothes for him, and I still couldn’t used to seeing him in a pair of fatigues and a flannel shirt.

John said Nick was here – Preston had called him in to help figure out who was stealing weapons from the town’s cache.

I froze on the bridge, staring at the now-bustling town that had sprung in the ruins of the neighborhood in which I’d grown up. I could already hear the shouting – we’d been seen. And even if they didn’t recognize Danse or I, Hancock was unmistakable.

_I’m a terrible friend, they should hate me._

I felt John’s warm hands on my shoulders, and this thumbs rubbed at the tension in the back of my neck. “It’s alright doll, they’re just going to be happy to see you.” His voice rumbled softly, breaking through my worried train of thought.

It had been an awkward journey – though John had mostly held his tongue in regards to Danse. _‘I’m not a complete asshole, some parts are missing. Happens when you’re a ghoul.”_ He’d quipped when I’d asked him to take it easy on the wounded former paladin. But we hadn’t had a chance to talk ourselves yet.

“I hope so.” I murmured and started forwards reaching the guard posts just as Preston came running up. In the distance I saw more figures running towards me and tried to brace myself.

I scanned the figures for that frayed fedora and tan duster – and when I spotted them I bolted -running towards him. Past Preston and Jun and even MacCready. And I almost tripped on Dogmeat who’s frantic happy barking was drowning out everyone else as he danced around my legs.

“Nick!” I nearly knocked him over with the force of my hug. “I am so sorry. I’m a terrible friend. I didn’t…I’m sorry.” My eyes burned with tears I tried to hold back.

I felt the strong grip of his metal arms tighten around my waist. “I thought you were dead kid.” He said quietly, squeezing my tightly as though to make sure I was real. I knew he couldn’t cry, but his voice wavered with the desire to.

“It wasn’t your fault Nick. I made my choices. I just didn’t…I didn’t think about anyone else.” I felt his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh of relief – even though he didn’t breathe. So many things he did were so human.

“It’s alright doll, I forgive you.” He pushed me back gently, finally taking a look at me. My sunglasses had gone flying off when I’d embraced him, hat pushed high on my head. I saw his yellow eyes go wide as he took in my cybernetics with shock.

“We got something in common Nick.” I smiled as brightly as I could manage, even as I wiped a few tears from my eyes.

“Looks like you got quite a story to tell.” He drawled.

“And I will tell you everything, I promise.”

Dogmeat was barking frantically, circling us. The rest of my friends were standing by, and it was MacCready who finally remarked “Alright Nick quit hogging Bric!”

Everyone chuckled and I bent down to pet Dogmeat first, finally calming his barking. I ruffled his ears, smiling at the warm softness of my furry friend. “I’m so sorry I left you boy.” I murmured, and he leapt up and licked my face – licking away tears and making me laugh.

“Thought you forgot about me.” MacCready said with a sly grin and swept me up in his arms. “Gods it’s good to see you Bric.” He squeezed me tightly.

“Is it really you General?” Preston stepped into the center of the ring of people that had gathered.

I turned away from Mac, and slid my hat off. _Of course it’s Preston to case doubt on me._ Running my fingers through my hair – it was growing in, but still shorter than it had been – I sighed. “I’m not the general anymore Preston.” I turned around, lips pursed. “So Bric works. Or Bricelyn. Or ‘that bitch that ran off and left everyone’ wouldn’t be out of line.”

I heard the soft gasps – a few people’s hands flew to cover their mouths – of surprise at the implant. _I’m not hiding this._

“What happened?” Preston’s eyes were wide, and there was fear glittering there.

“Long story. One I promise to share with everyone but not…not right now.” I scanned the group and saw fear in a few other peoples eyes. _Ah hell, they think I’m a synth._ A replacement Bric, sent back from the dead to use them some way. “Look. I won’t offer excuses. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. It was never supposed to be this long.” I addressed everyone – fidgeting with my hat in my hands. “I owe you all an explanation and you’ll get it.” I glanced at John and Danse. “But first there are bigger problem at hand.”

_I’ve got a lot to do to earn their trust back. It’s like starting all over again._

And for a moment, I wanted to leave. To walk away and go elsewhere – anywhere else.

Then I felt Nick’s hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back doll.”

“It hasn’t been the same without you Bric.” MacCready had stepped up beside me.

“’ere is she? I don’t believe ya!” Cait’s loud lilting voice carried across the town as she jogged over. Spotting me the red-headed fighting tackled me with a “It’s really you ain’t it?” as she threw her arms around my neck. I had to pry her off of me as I laughed. “Yes, it’s me.”

_It’s not OK but it’s going to be._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while I never picked up Danse as a companion, his personal story is pretty damn touching. Exploring the fallout of his real identity is a story in and of itself. Without that twist, he's just so boring to me, but with it, he becomes a fascianting character.


	23. Rebuilding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse struggles with his identity, and Hancock struggles with running.

I sat in the quiet, back against a tree, watching the sunset reflecting on the river. The day had been long and I’d not had a moment or alone since crossing the bridge. Despite my best efforts I’d ended up retelling my story four times in its entirety – and may more times in part. I’d pulled aside each person and made a personal apology, mending bridges that in the end, hadn’t really needed it.

_They’re all just relieved I’m here._

But being around everyone after being alone for so long was exhausting. I’d managed to slip off during dinner – while John patched things up with MacCready and Cait. I knew some of the settlers were still uncomfortable with me, but I hoped they’d come around.

So I’d sought some quiet near the river. It was tainted and the surface swirled with contamination and glowed fainted with radiation – but it was still peaceful. I’d spent plenty of nights on its banks in high school, looking for quiet and someplace to call my own.

_Amazing how the world can change in a few hundred years, but some things stay the same._

The old cul-de-sac was so alive now, almost three dozen settlers plus my friends and Preston’s original companions called it home. It was so strange- comfortable and foreign at the same time.

_Wonder what Sarah would have thought of all this._

_Wonder how Nora would have handled this._

 I pushed that thought aside – trying not to think about how one fluke incident had led to my being here.

The sound of footsteps interrupted my solitude. Glancing up I was surprised to see Danse.

“Mind if I sit sol—Bric?” He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, such a natural look on him. So strangely normal, especially with the slightly-shaggy brown hair and a day’s worth of stubble on a strong jaw. _He could be any guy in the old world._

“Not at all.” I scooted over a bit to share the tree. We’d told the town he was an exiled Brotherhood soldier who’d helped me. It was best to keep the lie as close to the truth as we could. At John’s suggestion we’d kept his status as a synth quiet. Apparently what Nick was here investigating was stolen ammunition and weapons – which the settlers were convinced some synths who had infiltrated the town had taken. Tensions were high, and we didn’t need to fan those flames.

“Something on your mind Danse?” I glanced at him after he took a seat. He’d been quiet since we returned – but that was pretty typical for him. And in the chaos of my return, no one had much minded his awkward silence.

“I…” he felt quiet for a minute. I didn’t push it. Silence with Danse was comfortable – it was what we were used to. In fact the idea of holding an actual conversation with him was making me nervous. _But I’m the only person he CAN talk to. I realized._

“I’m sorry, I thought this would be easier. There is so much I want to say but I don’t know where to start.” He finally said.

“The beginning is usually a good place.” A faint smirk danced on my lips and I laughed once.

“I don’t know if there is a beginning.” I heard the pain in his voice. Danse had built himself a cell of Brotherhood rhetoric that gave him safety and structure. And now it was gone, and he didn’t know what to do with that freedom.

“Hey…Whatever it is if I can help I will.”

“It’s just…I’ve spent my entire life – or at least, what I perceive as my life – following a plan to shape my own future. And now…” he trailed off, the words difficult for him to say aloud. “I feel lost. Like I exist without a purpose.”

A deep sigh of shared pain slipped from my lips. “Welcome to the club Danse.” I said quietly, voice strained with a touch of bitterness. “I don’t think anyone really knows what they’re doing – we’re all lost. Looking for a purpose is what makes us human.”

He glanced at me – so surprised still that I wouldn’t called him a synth, or treat him any differently now.

“You were lucky the structure of the Brotherhood gave you focus…for the rest of us life usually isn’t that black and white.”

“For the first time I joined up with the Brotherhood, I don’t have all the answers. I don’t have a plan.” Danse’s voice was tight with worry.

I laughed softly, “Like I said, join the club.”

“But you…you’ve done so much. Getting into the Institute – that required a plan. Defeating them is going to require a plan.”

“I know, but I made it up on the fly. And once they’re gone…I don’t know what I’m going to do. Life is what happens outside of the plans, outside of what you expect. I think it’s normal to not have answers – to now know what to do. ” I twisted so I could look at him, chewing on my bottom lip in thought. “The Brotherhood’s rhetoric was a cage Danse – from inside it looks safe and structured, but from outside – it’s so small. You’re free now, you can do whatever the hell you want.

Danse seemed to consider that for a long while. To his credit he held my eyes as he did so. He finally said quietly “That freedom – not having a plan? It scares the hell out of me.”

I felt a stab of shared pain. “Me too.” I whispered.

I twisted back to sit shoulder to shoulder against the tree, in silence. I wasn’t in a rush, and I wasn’t going to push. Whatever animosity I had towards Danse was long gone. _He’s lost everything – I know how that feels._

We watched the river as it grew dark, the silence comfortable. We could hear voices in the background – people were heading off to bed, or chatting as they stood in the cul-de-sac. A loud cheer told me there was probably a card game going on. I was surprised no one had come to find me yet, and decided to enjoy the quiet while I could.

“I’m so confused.” Danse said, almost musing aloud. “I’m a machine who thinks like a human who was trained to hunt the very thing I’ve become.”

“That sentence made my brain hurt.” I quipped with a chuckle. “It doesn’t even make sense. You didn’t become anything – you’ve been it all along.”

Danse’s dark lips pursed in consideration of that.

“Look, I saw the labs in the Institute Danse. You weren’t made – despite anything Arthur says. Grown maybe. Not made.”

“But I’m still synthetic – not born. There’s mechanical metal parts in me.”

“Yeah? Join the club – again.” I gestured to my implant. I’d since learned the Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland often gave out implants.

“But that’s different.”

“Is it?” My brow furrowed with a touch of frustration, “Give me your hand.”

“Huh?” Danse glanced down at me with confusion – he was a good few inches taller than I was. But he held out his hand anyways. In a fluid motion I slid my dagger from my boot and sliced the back of his hand.

“Ow! Hey!” He yanked his hand back from mine. I wiped the blade on my pant leg, then slid it across the back of my hand. In the dim evening light I held mine up side by side with his. “Can you tell the difference?”

We were both bleeding from identical cuts. Dark red blood dripped down the back of our hands, along the wrist and following the curve of our arms towards the elbow.

“I can’t tell the difference.” I said, and Danse glanced up at me with a look that said _you’re crazy_ and it made me grin. “You’re at least 95% organic, which is close enough that it doesn’t make any difference. It’s about what you do with your life Danse - not where you came from.”

Somewhere in his pocket Danse came out with an old handkerchief, and wiped the back of his hand off. He folded it over, then gently wiped the blood off my hand. It was a strangely touching gesture, my hand in his.

“Those bastards who created me couldn’t even be bothered to implant memories of having siblings or parents.” He growled softly, voice heavy with long-bitter sorrow. “I was – or I thought I was – an orphan.”

“I’m so sorry Danse. They’re…they’re not good people. Everyone in the Institute is…off. Cold. Clinical.” I squeezed his hand. “I always thought friends were the family you chose anyways. I always kinda wanted a brother.” I shot him a grin – and was rewarded with a faint flicker of hope in those dark brown eyes. “You certainly get on my nerves enough to be my brother.”

He finally laughed – a rich warm chuckle I’d not really heard before. Some of that concern and tension finally melted away and his shoulders relaxed.

“But for that to be the case y’know I’d need to know your first name. I’m pretty sure it’s not in fact Paladin.”

Danse laughed again, “It’s Aaron.”

It was dark, and we stood up finally, stretching from sitting on the hard packed ground. _Ah hell why not?_ I impulsively threw my arms around Danse’s neck for a hug. His entire body tensed with surprise and awkwardness, his hands held out to the side as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

I laughed at him. “I’m not contagious, it’s typical to return a hug.” _Has he ever been hugged? The Brotherhood isn’t touchy feely._ I couldn’t help but wonder.

After a moment’s more hesitation Danse closed his arms around my back, and his tension melted away. I gave him a squeeze before stepping back from the friendly hug. I kept my hands on his broad shoulders though. “You’re still you Danse – nothing changes that.”

As we walked back into town I laughed, and gently teased. “Besides, I really need someone to fix an old power armor suit for me. That’s the actual reason I’m keeping you around.”

Danse chuckled. “If you repair armor as well as you box…I can see why you’d need some help.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The house was dark, save for one pale light in the bedroom, when I said good night to Danse. He was staying in the guest house for the town until we figured out more permanent arrangements. I assumed John was reading.

So I was surprised to walk into the dark front room and see the brightening red cherry of a cigarette as he took a drag. Only the red smoldering light lit his features briefly, pale red shadows dancing across his lined and scared face.

“John?” My voice was filled with confusion and questions, brow furrowed. I stepped from the pool of pale yellow street light the open door left and fumbled with the one stand light I had put in to the house.

It had been so strange to return here. The house had been untouched since I left – my friends not ready to admit that I might never return for it. Dusty, but untouched – a little shrine to me – it was comforting and strange to be back to it. Especially with memories of growing up here overlaying memories of the last year all within these four walls.

With the single light on, I could see what was on the table in front of John. His favorite knife laid on the table, alongside a fistful of mentats and a jet inhaler – which was pirouetting through wrinkled fingers instead of the blade.

“John? Hey.” I stood next to the light, watching him. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair, white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The single light made the shadows over his scars darker, making his arms look even more craggy. I knew today had been rough – and not just on me. _This is his first real challenge to sobriety._

“I went looking for you.” He finally said, gravelly voice thick with concern. “Took me long enough I was starting to wonder if you’d disappeared. Then I saw you with Danse.”

He didn’t call him soldier-boy, tin can, metal man, garbage can, grunt, or any of a dozen other nicknames he usually used when referring to Brotherhood soldiers – and Danse in particular. Which meant he was serious.

“Green’s not your color love, stick to red.” I tried to lighten the mood and failed. “He can’t talk to anyone else save you and me. And you and him are…like fire and water. I’d say oil and water, but at least oil and water are both liquids.”

The red inhaler kept dancing between his fingers and he said nothing.

Sighing I walked over to the table and pulled out the chair beside him with a loud scrape of metal legs on old tiles. “He’s a friend John, nothing more.” I shuddered at that idea. “Ugh. Definitely nothing more, because just – ew. Danse is like a brother – a prude, tight-assed, brother.”

A flicker of sorrow and pain crossed John’s face, strong and brief. _Oh right, his brother is similar to that description._

“I’m sorry I didn’t think…”

“S’alright. I get where you’re going with that. My own relations not withstanding.” His voice remained thick with worry and jealousy anyways though.

And still that inhaler danced.

Reaching out and snatching it from his hand in a flash of movement, I interrupted him. He twitched with surprise, and then with his now-free hand stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. Slowly, dark eyes raised up to meet mine.

There was no shimmer of chem—enhanced vision there, just a sea of conflicting emotions.

“Danse is just a friend. You don’t get jealous when I hug Nick.” The clasped the inhaler in my closed fist, and held it in my lap.

“That’s different… Nick is..” He trailed off.

“Missing the parts? That doesn’t matter. Plenty of other ways to have some fun.” I waggled my brows with a faint smirk. And once again failed to lighten the mood at all.

“Danse is…” John couldn’t finish the words and his eyes slipped away from me, back to the mentats on the table and, his hand resting besides them.

“Danse is what?” I pushed him gently after a minute of silence.

Staring at the ruined skin of his forearm and the chems on the table he said quietly, “Everything I’m not.”

“Oh John…” I breathed his name in a sigh. “That’s why he’s my _friend_.” I slid my free hand atop his, the contrast of my smooth arm against his more startling for the poor lighting. _Not so smooth anymore though_ I noted with a touch of bitter shock. My arm was scarred in dozens of places. Long cuts, tiny burn marks – little dark pink reminders of a myriad battles since I woke up. “He’s not my type. You are.” I laced my fingers through his. “I love you the way you are.”

“And this?” John’s free hand crossed our arms, and with a finger slid the necklace from my shirt. Dark eyes focused on the tiny silver charm in the palm of his hand.

_None of this really has to with Danse,_ I realized.

My stomach twisted and it took me a minute to find my voice. “When I saw you in the Den…with that…” _fucking bimbo drug bunny_ my heart snapped, jealous flaring alongside the pain. I licked my lips slowly. “That…girl. I thought I wasn’t enough. Not enough to save those settlers at Greentop or at Fairline. Not enough to save Marcy. Not enough to save you.”

Dark eyes snapped up to mine and John tried to interrupt. “Brice, I –“ The realization of what he’d done compared to what he was worried about now had hit him and was written in his eyes.

“No.” I stopped him. “Let me finish.” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t know where I belonged anymore and I ran. And when I failed to get myself killed, I thought I could use the Brotherhood to get answers. I thought I could do it all on my own. I used Arthur to make myself feel...better, I guess. You’re not the only one who can run John.” I shoved the jet inhaler in my pocket and reached my hand up and closed John’s hand over the charm. “This is to remind me I’m no damn hero. And that there’s a little bit of good in everyone – even Maxson.” By the end my voice was bitter with regret and self-loathing. _I always hated those women who strung men along, using them to boost their own egos. Yet here I am._

John was silent, staring at my hand folded over his, and the necklace that wasn’t visible anymore. So I added, “I didn’t love him, but I…I cared.”

“Of course you did Bric, you care about everything.” John finally said. “That’s one of the things I love about you. You care enough to act. All these so-called good people are more than willing to sit around and watch others get hurt –so long as it ain’t them. But not you.” He sighed, letting go of the necklace and dropping his hand. “I’m sorry doll. I’m being petty and jealous. It’s been a long day and when I saw you with tin man I…” A shrug as he trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

“I know it was – s’why I just needed to get away. I haven’t been around this many people in a while. I should have told you where I was going though. I just didn’t want to interrupt you and Mac.” I stared at our entwined hands on the table for a minute. An idea struck me as I did, and I jumped up from the table. “Hold on.”

In the bedroom was a small wall safe. Sanctuary’s position so far from downtown seemed to have saved it from most of the worst looting, and somehow the safe had remained untouched through the centuries. I’d found it when I first returned, but had no need for the items inside, so I had added few pictures that had survived and left it locked. Spinning the combination now it popped open with a squeak of a hinge that needed oiling - badly.

I returned to the main room of the house with a small jewelry box. Sarah and I had argued over what to do with Mom’s old jewelry, which seemed silly now. I went to sit back down in my chair, but John grabbed my waist and pulled me into his lap with a chuckle. I set the box on the table and opened it.

“I want you to promise me something John.” I said as I fished around in the jumbled box.

“Anything love.” He purred, arms around my waist, his head leaning against my side as he watched what I was doing.

“Ah-ha.” I found what I was looking for. “Promise me if you want to run you’ll find me first.” I had pulled out a gold band – my father’s wedding ring – and I held it up.

John’s dark eyes went wide, first with interest, then with a faint arched brow of amusement. “Bricelyn are you proposing to me?”

“No! Yes? Maybe? I don’t…”I flushed and stuttered, not having entirely thought this through. “It’s the only jewelry I have. It was my father’s. I just…wanted something physical to remind you.”

John grinned, chuckling softly at my flustered state.

“It probably doesn’t even…” I slid the ring onto his scarred and calloused finger. “fit. Huh.”

“I can’t promise I ain’t going to run again. But I can promise I’ll find you first Brice.” He reached into the box, nimbly plucking a second gold band from it. “I don’t ever want to be without you again.” He slid my mother’s wedding band onto my ring finger. It was snug, but it fit after a moment’s effort.

It was my turn to laugh softly, cheeks still blushed. “John are you proposing to _me?_ ”

“Mmm, that depends.” His gravelly voice I loved was a warm rumble of potential.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “On what?”

“On what your answer would be.”

“Yes. It’d be yes. I don’t want anyone but you John. But that’s not how this is supposed to work.” I laughed, husky and soft. “Do people even do this anymore – engagements and marriages?”

“Not the way they used to.” He stood up, sliding me off his lap as he did so but keeping a hand on my hip. “S’good enough for me though.” John lifted my hand in his, kissing the ring he’d put on it.

I laughed again, “Not how I imagined this going. At all.” _That’s the summary of my life now isn’t it? Not anything like what I imagined._ But I met those dark olive eyes, glittering with warmth and love and felt my heart swell.

_This is what happiness feels like._

We kissed, and when we finally pulled apart John’s devilish smile was full of hope. “You and me together love, the world ain’t got a prayer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and rewrote and struggled with this chapter for something like 10 hours worth, or more last weekend. I'm mostly happy with how it ultimately came out. I opted not for drama but for a more communication mostly because at this point they're both adults, and as a similar age to the SS, I know all my friends are for as little drama as possible. I think Hancock's been with a few too many partners to be the one casting stones - especially since they were broken up at the time. 
> 
> And Danse...oh Danse. I love the conversation afterwards with him. It's so entirely human - which of course is the point right?


	24. 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bric deals with the war she's started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, spoiler warning: this chapter covers the main questline ending.  
> Also non-canon warning. While this is mostly canonical, I've blended a few potential ending bits together to make a more coherent story.

 

When Deacon showed up in Sanctuary, it was with far less flash than I’d expected. Instead of landing the vertibird they’d stolen right in the cul-de-sac he simply strolled right in over the bridge. Ignoring all the guards shouting at him, he stopped on the street inside town. He was wearing yet another wig of messy blonde hair, combat leathers, and a hodge podge of armor – looking like any other raider in the Commonwealth.

But I knew that voice when I heard him loudly declaring “So this is Sanctuary? I was expecting more butterflies and balloons from the way everybody talks about it.”

I laughed as I set aside the pieces of the pistol I was cleaning and stood up. I’d been expecting them eventually. Deacon had assumed that despite the Institute data, Dez wouldn’t trust me with the new HQ’s location. So he’d planned to meet back here when they got a plan together. I had my suspicions on where the new HQ was, but kept them to myself.

The guards were frantic, weapons trained on Deacon – and Glory beside him. But they were clearly entirely unsure of what to actually _do._

“It’s alright. He’s friendly. Mostly.” I called as I walked over to them, wiping the grease off my hands and onto my pants. “Figured you two would have entered in style with your ‘bird.”

Deacon only chuckled. “I wanted to, but Dez said it was ‘waste of resources’ and she –“ He pointed at Glory beside him, “said it was too flashy.”

I glanced at the settlers on guard duty who were still standing by, surprised. They’d lowered their weapons but they looked worried. “Shouldn’t you all be watching the entrance?” My chiding tone snapped them out of their indecision, and they jogged back to their guard posts with muttered annoyances.

“C’mon, we can talk in my place.” I glanced at Glory, who’s bemused expression said she found this all entertaining. “Hey Glory, welcome to Sanctuary.”

“Fixer. Not a bad place y’got here.”

I led them both to my place, where we spread out the printed files Tom had sent on the kitchen table. I’d given Deacon and Glory a chance to get settled and went to find John with Mac, Danse, and Nick at the firing range.

The sight of the three of them in a heated discussion over the best weapon for dealing with a Deathclaw – and Nick’s fatherly amusement at their macho discussion - made me grin. _At least they’re talking._

“You gotta keep your distance – that’s why a rifle is the better weapon. Take out a leg at a distance, and watch ‘em writhe.” MacCready was declaring, stroking his trusted .50 caliber rifle. His hat was on a fence post, tousled brown hair and an unusually clean shaven face making him look young.

Danse’s flannel shirt was unbuttoned, showing a plain white t-shirt beneath it, and his sleeves were rolled up past his elbow. It was starting to be less strange to see him without power armor. “Laser rifle’s a faster reload, larger magazine, less likely to jam.”

Nick was just shaking his head with amusement at his companions, puffing on a cigarette.

“What’s the point of a fight if you’re gunna hide and throw rocks at ‘em.” John drawled with bravado. His tricorn hat was pushed up a bit on his forehead, red sleeves of his jacket pushed up to his elbows.

“I’ll throw rock at ‘em if it means I get to keep my head attached to my shoulders. The farther away a Deathclaw is - the better.” I laughed as I interrupted, all four men turning and offering hellos.

“Deac and Glory are here.” I looked to John in particular. “So I’m going to have to break up this _extremely important_ debate guys.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Back in the house, with the information spread out in a semi-coherent sense, Deacon outlined Desdemona’s proposed plan. Since my pipboy could still connect with the Institute’s relay, she wanted me to return to the Institute and make contact with one of the synths inside. While I worked for the Institute I could feed weapons and supplies to their contact, while the Railroad built a new relay. Then, with inside help, she proposed taking control of the relay center to teleport in my support team. And ultimately, that team would set the reactor systems within the Institute to explode.

“As you might imagine, Dez isn’t optimistic that if the Minutemen take lead on this, they’ll give a damn about the synths within the Institute.” Deacon finished. Even with the sunglasses on – despite being inside – I knew he’d been focused entirely on my reaction. The five us of – Deacon, myself, John, Danse, and Glory – crowded around the table.

“There’s no Minutemen lead on this – it’s my lead.” I responded with some authority. “I’m not their General anymore – despite what Preston keeps saying.”

Glory nodded. “Regardless, we want to evacuate everyone we can.”

“Me too. There’s plenty of innocent people even inside the Institute. It’s a good plan. There’s just one problem.” There was a pit in my stomach that had been growing the more Deacon detailed the plan. A sense of dread at the proposal that relied on my infiltration of an organization I hated. _I can’t do this again._

My thumb found the gold band on my finger, spinning it as I spoke. “I’m not going back there. I can’t.” I licked my lips slowly and my voice wavered. “I can’t do this alone anymore.” John’s hand was warm and reassuring as I felt it slid onto the small of my back. “There has to be another way inside.”

“There isn’t. At least not that we’ve seen.” Deacon said, lips pursed in consideration.

I glanced the room seeing only blank faces – no one had a suggestion. I stared at the maps and notes on the table for a minute. We had a map of the Institutes bunker, but it was difficult to read. “I wonder…” My fingers traced the map for a moment.

Before I could continue my thought, Preston burst into the room.

“General –“

“It’s Bric.” I corrected automatically. He was clearly worried, clenching a piece of paper in his hand.

“Colonel Shaw reports of drastically increased Brotherhood activity near the Castle. She’s sure they’re going to be making their move soon.”

“Son of a bitch.” I clenched a fist with frustration, and to keep it from shaking. _This is a war I started. People are going to die because of me._ I pushed aside that train of thought with some effort. “Why the Castle?”

“It’s tactical.” Danse stated. “The Castle is a symbol of the Minutemen. And it’s low population means fewer causalities. Its destruction will be a blow to the standing of the Minutemen while not making Maxson look like a blood thirsty tyrant. He will use it to make a point about the might of the Brotherhood.”

I looked to Danse, meeting brown eyes that were dark with conflicted emotions. “How long do we have?”

“A few days at most. Potentially longer, if Maxson is looking to draw more Minutemen there first.” _If he wants to make sure you’re there Brice,_ I read between the lines.

“Then we need a plan. C’mon.” I gesture to Danse and I moved towards the door. Looking back a Deacon, Glory, and John I pointed at the maps. “Get Sturgis to take a look at that. Maybe he can find something in that map we missed.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

I had my supplies spread out on the floor of what passed for my living room I was counting, organizing, and attempting to streamline them when there was a knock on the already-open door.

“Yeah come in!” I chirped before looking up from where I knelt on the floor. We were leaving first thing in the morning – myself, Preston, John, and MacCready – to make for the castle. Preston had called on all his settlements for anyone else willing to help. I’d made him include in the instructions not to leave their own settlements defenseless to do so. I wasn’t going to risk any more people than we had to.

“Good morning sold-“ Danse caught himself. It was going to take more than a few days to break old habits. “Bric.”

“Mornin’.” I set aside the stims in my lap, wiped my hands on my thighs, and stood up. “What brings you through my door?”

The former paladin seemed to consider for a moment. “I’m going to make this brief. I want to be involved in the upcoming engagements. I am a _soldier -_ It’s what I know. I can help.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. “I’m not going to ask you to fight against your former friends Danse. I won’t.” It wasn’t right. I wanted him with me in combat – I’d seen him in action and knew he could help turn things to our favor. But I couldn’t ask that.

He faltered, having considered that risk and tried to ignore it. “I need to DO something. Sitting around town tinkering with armor is… is….”

“Boring as hell?” I laughed, dropping my hand. “But it isn’t useless. And you weren’t just a soldier Danse. You were – you are, a leader. Look,” I rolled my shoulders to stretch them, and placed my hands on my hips. “You know how to lead and organize people. All this town knows is you’re former Brotherhood –and while they don’t like you for that, they’ll still listen to you. You have natural authority. I need someone to hold this town together while we’re gone. And if we…” I swallowed hard, the words sticking in my throat. “If we don’t make it back, someone I can trust to keep this place going.”

Danse winced at the idea of failure, shaking his head. “You will make it back.”

“I hope so. But until then, you and Nick are the only people I trust to hold this place together.” I saw a flicker of annoyance and disgust long engrained, on the former paladin’s features at the mention of the synthetic detective. “Nick knows people, and they trust him. You know how to lead. I need you both here.”

Broad shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. “Fine.”

“Hey if anyone can shape the Minutemen into soldiers, it’ll be you Danse.” I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Just be careful, sis.” Danse’s rich voice rolled the word around, trying out the nickname. It made me smile. And seeing my reaction Danse’s stoic features warmed with a faint smile in return. “If anything happens to you …I honestly don’t know what I’d do.”

“We knew this was coming. Just have to have a little faith that everything we’ve done up to this point has made us ready for it.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Soaring above the ruins of Boston in a vertibird made my stomach twist. I wasn’t afraid of heights but hanging near an open door in front of gun – and knowing what we were flying towards – was enough to shake even my nerves. The fact that the flight was not a smooth one – since Tom hadn’t ever actually _flown_ a vertibird before – wasn’t helping.

It had been Deacon’s idea. While the Brotherhood readied to make a statement against the Minutemen by attacking the Castle, we were going to hit the Prydwen from the inside. With the stolen vertibird, and Tinker Tom at the controls, we were going to get inside and set off their entire stockpile of munitions.

Or that was the plan anyways. It sounded simple enough on paper. Get in, blow up the bombs already there.

I was pretty sure it was going to be a lot more difficult in reality. _And if I run into Maxson I don’t know if I can kill him._ Even though I was pretty sure there was only one way this was going to end.

Tom had the vertibird transmitting Brotherhood signals, so we were safe flying it. Once we docked though, all bets were off. I saw the hulking form of the floating city nearing and my pulse started to race.

“So if you run into trouble, just talk like an asshole with a superiority complex and maybe they’ll believe you’re really one of them.” Deacon was chatting over our earpieces – it was too loud to hear anything over the sound of the ‘birds engines and the rushing wind otherwise. He liked to talk when he was nervous – which was an odd trait for a guy who was supposed to be the best at espionage and intel gathering.

“Yeah? And maybe they’ll be blinded by my stunningly good looks and just let us walk right in.” John snarked back at him. He wore power armor – a Brotherhood of Steel suit I’d had stored in Sanctuary from the past year. I wore a field scribe outfit Deacon had just happened to have – to no one’s surprise.

“The idea is to get in, plant the bomb, and get out. Not find a new husband.” Deacon shot back with a husky laugh. “Tinker here is going to keep this bird spooled for an immediate take off. My job’s to be his lookout, and make sure the looky loos keep walking.” The bird bucked once, and I grabbed for the oh-shit handle above me and held on. _This is all assuming we don’t crash before we get there._

I saw Beacon hill beneath us, and swallowed down bile.

“We’re getting close to the blimp – Tom can you keep this thing just a little straighter?” Deacon’s voice had an edge on it that told me I wasn’t the only one with a bit of flight sickness.

“I’m tryin’ man! I’m tryin! If you want to give it a whirl I won’t stop you.” Tom’s normally upbeat voice was strained with stress.

“No no, you’re doing great Tom. Just try to keep it a little more straight.”

As we neared the Prydwen and Tom and Deacon managed to get our landing cleared, I pulled the scribe goggles down over my eyes and tucked my hair under the cap. _It doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to get us inside._ But I wasn’t sure how long the disguises would last.

The pride of the Brotherhood was surprisingly quiet. They were reading to attack the Castle – and not expecting to be attacked. We were left unmolested as we strode onto the flight deck, and up the stairs into the ship.

I led the way, since I knew the ship’s layout. Unbeknownst to Deacon though, I had a detour to make.

I knocked on the door to Haylen’s quarters, then opened it. The field scribe jumped up from the small chair at her desk with surprise.

“What are you doing Scribe?” She glared at us both – and before I saw the recognition in her eyes I slammed the door to her room shut behind John. The power armor made for close quarters in the tiny room.

“Shh. Haylen.”

“Bric? What are you doing here? Where’s Danse? Maxson said he was dead, and that he’d killed you.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s alive, and safe. Look I don’t have time so I’m going to be blunt. I need you to evacuate the ship. I’m going to blow it up, but I want to give everyone a chance. I know there are plenty of soldiers here like _you_ who don’t deserve to die.”

Her mouth fell open as she stared at me, then at John.

“But I…I’m Brotherhood! I…can’t. I’ll tell them you’re here!”

“Haylen stop.” I glared at her, grabbing her shoulder. “You already betrayed Maxson once when you told me where to find Danse because you knew I wouldn’t kill him. You can save a lot of people right now. Maxson wants a war, and I intend to stop it before it even starts.”

The younger woman swallowed hard, and after considering all the options for a moment she said. “Ok.”

“When you get out of here – get to Sanctuary. Take care of yourself. Now go.”

Haylen squeezed past the power armor and hurried off.

“Not sure that was a great idea.” John’s voice was tinny and flickered with static through the suit’s speakers.

“I’ve got enough blood on my hands. At least I can give them a chance.”

We were half way to the armory when the alarms started to sound. For all the militaristic order the Brotherhood hard, the evacuation order and intruder alarms sounding together had chaos in the hallways. We pushed through to the armory, getting inside and slamming the door shut just as I heard the first shots slamming into it.

I pulled Tom’s bomb from my bag and started to set it up. The fact that I did so beneath a Danger: Explosives sign made me giggle to myself. I tried to remember all of Tom’s instructions – plugging in wires and attaching the battery and finally setting the timer to 15 minutes.

“Let’s go.”

John opened the door, and his power suit took the first barrage of shots as we bolted down the hallway. Initiates and knights were scurrying through the hallways with hands full of documents and gear trying to evacuation, even as others were looking for us. I headed for the ladder down to the lower deck, and found it blocked by a power armor wearing knight.

As he raised his laser rifle and started to shout at me I swerved and ducked into another hallway with a sharp “This way!” and John followed. We ran – the power armor footfalls heavy behind me as I tried to remember my way through the twisting corridors.

I glanced at my Pipboy – and the countdown on the screen flashed 5 minutes. We ran, bursting out the door onto the flight deck, which was chaos as people were trying to load into Vertibirds.

I saw Haylen, and grabbed her arm as I ran by. She squeeked with surprise, but recognized me and fell in beside me. I knew Danse wouldn’t forgive me if I let Haylen die.

Deacon was fending off soldiers, trying to keep nervous initiatives from barging onto the ‘bird. He saw us and shot me a look. “Evacuation orders? What the hell Fixer?”

“Not arguing – let’s go.” I let Haylen get in first.

“Who the hell is this?”

“A friend, now c’mon, let’s GO.” I shouted at him, diving on the vertibird as I heard a few bullets whine in our direction. John was last on – and we were pulling away from the deck as I heard the first growling rumble of an explosion.

“C’mon Tom! Punch it” I heard Deacon on my earpiece. The little plane picked up speed as we dropped out of the hangar and flew away, amongst all the other vertibirds loaded with Brotherhood members. I swore I saw the metal of the ship _ripple_ as the second explosion went off. And then a third.

I also saw power armor wearing knights leaping from the ship. Some held other members in their arms or on their backs. The suits could take some serious fall damage, and were probably the fastest way off the exploding Prydwen.

I watching when the last explosion sent the entire floating city up in a ball of flame, momentarily blinded by the light. I could hear Haylen’s gasp of shock and pain at the sight, and then she started to sob. I wouldn’t let myself look away.

_All those people. What have I done?_

Tom banked hard as the vertibird starting taking damage from Brotherhood knights on the ground – we’d been identified. I wasn’t expecting it, and my balance was off. I fell, and my sweat-slicked hands slipped right off the handle.

One minute there was metal, the next minute only air.

I shrieked, and closed my eyes.

And was enveloped in metal –squeezing so tight I couldn’t breathe.

With an impact that shook the ground and left a deep crater in the ground, the power suit slammed home. I opened my eyes, to find myself cradled in the power suits arms.

I slipped out of them, falling to one knee, panting heavily.

“You have serious thrill issues doll.” I heard John’s voice after the hiss of the power suit opening. “You ok?”

I managed to nod only, voice gone as I continued to gasp for a minute. My pulse raced. I finally stood up and managed to stammer out an “I’m OK. Thanks to you.”

“Serious thrill issues.” He was laughing, but there was concern creasing his features. He swept an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. “Any time doll. Suit’s shot though, so hope you like long walks through the wasteland.”

“It’s all about the company.” I glanced back at the flaming ruins of the once-great Prydwen. I could make out people scrambling all over, and felt a flicker of relief. _At least some people survived._

We started to walk, skirting the edge of the airport and heading south towards the Castle.

“Bricelyn!”

I whipped around at my name.

There was Maxson. His coat was singed and blackened along one side. Part of his beard had been burned as well, and an angry burn streaked up his cheek. There was violence in his eyes as he slowed to an angry stalk.

“You goddamn ghoulfucking bitch! My SHIP! How could you?”

I froze, hand falling to my pistol and unbuttoning the holster. “Arthur don’t do this. You can pick up the pieces – go back to the Capital.”

“That ship was 8 fucking years in the making! All that work, gone.” His voice was an angry growl as he came to a stop in front of me. “All for what? Some goddamn corpse?” Angry blue eyes flicked briefly to John standing a step behind me, then back to me.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly though my nose before I spoke. “No Arthur. This is all so people can live free. Not under the yoke of the Brotherhood or the Institute. I told you let it go – but you’re attacking the castle, even now. You set yourself against everyone else.”

“People need guidance – they need rules. You’ve condemned the Commonwealth to chaos.”

“I…” I swallowed hard, staring into bright blue eyes so full of anger. “I’m sorry Arthur. I really am. For what it’s worth…I’m sorry. Go help your people Arthur – be their hero. Get them back home.” I turned away.

I felt the hot burn of a laser bolt as it grazed my side at the same instance as I heard the bark of a pistol, louder than the simultaneous tang of the laser rifle. I spun around, and saw Arthur slumping to the ground, his rifle in his hands. Then I saw John with my own .44 pistol in his hand.

 

 

 


	25. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, SPOILERS!

# 25\. Epilogue

They called me a hero.

But I felt more like a monster.

After the fall of the Prydwen, we infiltrated the Institute, and set its reactors to blow.

Despite evacuation orders, hundreds, if not thousands, had died. First the Brotherhood, then the Institute. All because people can’t let others live in peace. I’d come a long way from a cold cryo tomb, but it felt like it was all steps backwards. _War never changes._

The Minutemen had survived the Brotherhood attack, which had fallen apart as the Knights received word of the Prydwen’s fall. They rebuilt the castle into a bastion of hope – and were training new recruits there. Anyone wanting to learn to fight to help defend the commonwealth was welcome, under Preston’s guidance as the new General. Though I’m pretty sure Colonel Shaw does all the work of whipping new recruits into something presentable.

I’d convinced MacCready to step in as the Mayor of Sanctuary. The town had grown, and needed leadership, and he had experience. We’d gone to the Capital Wasteland – months of travel – and brought Duncan back safe and sound. Cait was the Fahrenheit to MacCready’s Mayorship. They made a good team. And with the Institute destroyed, people calmed down about suspected synths and stopped pointing fingers at each other over every little issue.

Nick and Piper were helping Diamond city rebuild, after we’d learned that McDonough had in fact been a synth. Institute records were vague on when he’d been installed. Piper was threatening to open a Sanctuary-based branch of Publick Occurences.

John had taken the news about his brother hard. He was still Good Neighbor’s mayor, and the town had grown in size. We’d redone the old state house and made more room for drifters, and a private room for ourselves –when we were there.

Deacon took over the Railroad. Together with Glory they began helping anyone who needed to get away – synths and humans. There were Brotherhood members, left stranded, who only wanted to get home to the Capital Wasteland or to start a new life. Plenty of them had joined only for safety – and didn’t buy into the Brotherhood’s rhetoric completely.

Former Paladin Danse was at the Red Rocket, just across the bridge from Sanctuary. I’d turned over all the power armor I had collected to him – and let him hand it out to those he trusted. He knew about the armor than anyone else. He still didn’t like Hancock, and was working through a lot, but he’d come a long way. Most people didn’t know his background. It was easier to keep it that way. Former Scribe Haylen stayed there with him – and she kept his thoughts from darker paths.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

Inside the old Parson’s Asylum, I stood in front of a large metal and glass cell. The basement of the old insane asylum has been converted in a medical and research center. It’s all old, marked with rust and dirt from the last two centuries. But inside the cell it was brightly lit and clean. It held Lorenzo Cabot, a man who’s strange family history I wasn’t sure I believed. Upon his head was an artifact that he claimed was of alien origin.

Jack Cabot was yelling at me to complete the sequence and gas the chamber – to kill his father before he broke out and killed us all. “It’s a failsafe! You have to activate it!”

“Don’t listen to my son, he’s the crazy one.” Lorenzo remarked harshly. He stared at me through the glass. Supposedly, he could read minds and communicate telepathically.

“This serum – it extends lifespans?” I’d taken one, and while I felt better than I had in recent memory, I wasn’t convinced.

“You saw what it did to my daughter.” She’d been old when I met her, but catching up on her doses again had returned her to a young woman. I had learned not to question some things. _But it is kind of convincing._

“I let you out, and I’ll have a permanent supply of it?”

“Brice…” John was standing beside me, concern on his scarred features and uncertainty in his voice. The younger Cabot continued to yell at us from the control room, his voice metallic over the speaker system.

“I would owe you for releasing me. What Jack has stolen from me, I will bestow upon you freely. You have my word I will bring you and yours no harm, and provide the serum for along as you wish. Do the right thing, and let me out.” Lorenzo’s stare was unnerving.

“Activate the generators and I can turn on the failsafe!” Jack Cabot pleads over the speaker system.

I stared over at the lock mechanism for the door. Then I looked at John, meeting his dark eyes.

“Do you remember what you said about doing this long term?”

I reached for his hand, entwining my fingers through his.

The worry suddenly fled John’s face, chased away by a pleased grin.

I unlocked the cell door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this story. I really had a blast writing it. And I set my own word count record!   
> I did opt to skip the Institute because while it concludes some of the story, I don't think it's an event that needs to be written - at least in a fanfic. Given it's our hero, we all know how it has to end. The conclusion of the Maxson story line really ends the character development to some degree.
> 
> AAAAnyway. I love the idea of Hancock, Nick, Danse, and the SS going off into the immortal sunset together.
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me here for any future fanfics I may do while I'll keep here.  
> I am taking the spirit of this story, and writing an original piece, while will be posted over here: http://w.tt/1P0msPz on an irregularly updating schedule. You can also find me on Twitter for the occasional story updates under @Midnyghtchilde as well.


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